


As Much As Nothing, Everything's Changed

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Tales From the Tower [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Family Drama, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p><p>
  <i>Pietro's fingers trailed along the skin of her arm. "Some things are better together than apart. Bourbon and coke. Peanut butter and jelly."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>There was something funny about the silence that followed, and so she ventured, "You want a PBJ, now, don't you?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I wouldn't say no to one. . ." he told her, nomming on her shoulder.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She swatted him. "Fine, fine. You and your enhanced metabolism."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tilting his head, one corner of his mouth quirked up. "Did you google me?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Of course I did. I like to know who I'm sleeping with if I'm going to do it more than once.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"You mad I didn't tell you?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I assumed you had your reasons. Maybe you liked being normal with me.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I do like being normal.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She smiled and nodded. He really did make her happy. It was such a strange sensation. "Still want the sandwich?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Now that you know about the metabolism, I want two."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God finally I've managed to edit and we found a title. The long awaited Pietro/OFC fic. I promised myself I'd get it up before Christmas.
> 
> Will post Mondays and Thursdays.
> 
> Title is from and Indigo Girl's song "Run"

The bar was crowded, even for a Friday night. Almost too crowded. Pietro Maximoff didn't have a lot of fears. He'd already died once and it hadn't stuck, not to mention the superpowers. But he was not, generally, a fan of crowds, small spaces or buildings he didn't have an easy exit from. Probably had something to do with being stuck in a collapsed building during his formative years.

Right now the press of bodies was starting to set off that vague feeling of discomfort he got in such situations. He checked his watch, almost eleven, so it was going to get worse before it got better. He sighed and sipped his drink. Ten more minutes of mingling - no, maybe fifteen - then he'd move on, find somewhere less stressful.

Unless, of course, there was a particularly good-looking girl at the bar. Which, as it turned out, there was. He couldn't see her face, so he supposed that could ruin it, but what he could see was world class. Mostly just a fantastic ass in a pair of skinny jeans and a mess of long, glossy dark hair. They eye candy alone was worth the crowd.

He ordered another drink and scouted her out from the other end of the bar, trying to determine if she was here alone or not. This bar wasn't really ideal date location, so couples were rare. But she might be here with friends and that was a different strategy. He tried not to break up girl's nights unless interest was obviously reciprocated. It seemed rude.

A man sidled up next to her, and she turned, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Yeah, definitely worth the crowd. Unless she was with that guy. By the look on her face, she wasn't. She _really_ wasn't.

The guy was obviously drunk and a bit too aggressive for Pietro's tastes. He edged his way closer to the pair, hoping to eavesdrop.

"I'm just trying to pay you a compliment, honey."

"Well, you're doing a terrible job of it." She was crowded to the edge of her bar stool and looking around for an escape. 

So Pietro closed the distance between them and inserted himself between her and the guy. "Hey, sorry that took so long, work." He gave her an easy, non threatening smile before glancing over his shoulder at the guy. "Can I help you?"

He could see the guy size him up. Did he think they were going to have a fist fight and the girl would go home with the winner? Whatever his drunken intentions were, his gaze fixated on Pietro's biceps, which were at eye level. God bless Barton and all his damn arm exercises. The other man slid off his stool and slunk away.

"Thanks," the girl said. "Nice trick, top notch."

"You're welcome, I've always wanted to try it." He hopped onto the stool the guy had vacated. "I'll just hang out a minute to make sure he doesn't come back. Don't feel obligated to interact."

"Aw, come on. I know how this goes." She grinned at him. "You rescue me, I let you buy me a drink."

"I'd be happy to buy you a drink, but not because I came to your rescues. Rescues with strings attached are bad form."

"Well, I wouldn't have let you buy me a drink anyway."

He clicked his tongue. "Dodged a disappointment, then."

She looked him up and down. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Downing what what left of his drink in one gulp he set the glass down. "Vodka tonic."

The bartenders in this place were guys, which meant it took him forever to get his drink, and even that was only because he waved a large bill. This woman, she pushed up and leaned half her upper body on the bar, using her arms to shift some excellent cleavage into view. They had actual drinks sitting in front of them faster than it would have taken him to even get the bartender to acknowledge his existence.

She ordered top-shelf tequila. "If you're going to be ethnically stereotypical, I thought I'd play along, too." 

Ironically, the first time he'd had a vodka tonic was when Maria Hill had handed him one at Tony's Christmas party. He shrugged and held his glass out for a toast. "To stereotypes."

She clinked, and they drank. "You're not Russian," she commented after a moment. "Accent's not quite right."

His brows went up. "I'm impressed. Sokovian."

"Linguistics is my area of study. But that does explain why it sounds familiar." Make a crater out of a chunk of a tiny country and it makes news. Her face looked serious for a moment. "I'm sorry."

He inclined his head. "Thank you. The people that mattered to me got out safe."

She nodded, and let there be a moment of quiet between them, despite the loudness of the bar. Then she held out her hand. "I'm Ora."

Shaking her hand he replied, "Pietro."

Ora caught the bartender's eye, and held up two fingers. When their drinks came, she asked, "So what brings you to this bar?"

He weighed his options, truth or a line. Finally he lifted a shoulder. "Looking for company."

"Point for honesty," she said with a grin. She slugged back her tequila and gave him a very blatant appraisal. "Must not take long."

For a half second he wondered if that was some sort of oblique reference to his powers. But no, she didn't read like a fan girl. And she'd made no reaction to his name. He gave a half smile. "I'm told I have my charms."

"I bet all the sorority girls just fall at your feet."

He waved a hand. "Sorority girls are too good for a townie like me."

"Oh, bullshit. You're hot enough you could pull off overalls and a pick-up truck."

"You think I don't have dignity? I am not here to be slummed with."

"Don't tell me you're looking for a nice girl to have tea with and kiss on the front steps."

He laughed. "Do you see everything in such black and white?"

"Elimination is best done by narrowing in from the edges. If you want a nineteen year old, I'm wasting your time. If you want a girlfriend, you're wasting mine."

Sitting next to her had been a very good instinct. "I like intelligent conversation with my tawdry company. It's a fine line."

She tilted her head, considering. "That's a sticking point. I don't do tawdry. I like a little class with my casual sex."

"The ability to negotiate is important in these sort of affairs. So not quite tea party but not tawdry. Where does that leave us?" He scratched his chin in thought. "Real bed with sheets but last names are negotiable?"

"How good are your sheets?"

"Pretty good." Wanda had picked them out, purchased them and left them on his bed with a note reading _I know you know how to put them on._ That was probably not relevant information. "But they're far away and I have a roommate."

"Yeah, an audience isn't classy."

"How do your sheets rate?"

"Excellent. Of course. But I don't usually have men over," she said. "Awkward mornings and all." 

"We could agree to a time limit. With an option to renew."

She bit her lip and he couldn't help but stare at it. "Sex on a stopwatch. That's a new one."

He winked. "I do my best work under pressure."

Her mouth twitched. Then she finished her drink and said, "Challenge accepted." He tried not to grin too widely as he took one last slug of his vodka and slipped off his stool. She slid off hers in a sinuous motion. She was probably showing off. The way her t-shirt pulled across her breasts was almost certainly deliberate. None of that lessened his enjoyment at looking. "Don't be smug," she murmured.

"I'm admiring. I apologize, the expressions are similar."

"Likely story," she replied, and held out her hand. He slid his hand into hers and let her lead him out of the bar.

*

This was a habit Ora really needed to break. It had started as one of her many attempts to soothe a broken heart. To feel less lonely. A good buzz and some anonymous sex. It passed the time and made the nights bearable. But it had been going on too long. She had to stop.

Not tonight, though. Because this guy was delicious.

It wasn't just the accent, though Lord did that help. Or how well he filled out the "male club goer" uniform of snug shirt and well fitting jeans. Or even the crooked grin framed by remarkably well groomed facial hair. It was the whole package, plus the humor, the easy charm and the quiet, unassuming level of. . . chivalry, for want of a better word. Yeah, the rescue from the creep had been nice, but she honestly thought he hadn't expected a damn thing in return. Even now, walking to her apartment, she got the sense that she could back out and get no complaint, no cajoling into going just a little farther. Probably just a handshake and a wave goodbye.

She turned on a single lamp beside the couch, providing just enough dim light. "You want a drink?" she asked him.

He'd been glancing around the room but brought his eyes back to her when she spoke. "I'm all right," he said. "But I'll have some water if you're drinking."

She went over and tapped at the docked iPod sitting on a shelf, and soft music filled the room. "I'm all right, but I can get you some water."

He gave her that crooked grin. "We are beginning what my sister would call a polite-off. I don't need anything. Thank you."

Ora shrugged and sauntered towards him. "Some people like to hydrate before athletic activity."

The grin actually widened. "I'll pace myself."

She came close enough to touch the hem of his t-shirt. "You are on the clock, you know."

He made a show of looking at his watch. "When's our limit?"

"I'll give two hours."

Pausing to push a button on the watch, he nodded. "Done," he told her. Then he slid a hand into her hair, tipping her head back and kissing her. She leaned into him, and they swayed a little to the music. She didn't know why, but she had the sense this man knew how to move.

He danced her slowly around the living room, kissing her thoroughly. One hand slid down her back, then dipped beneath the hem to stroke the skin of her waist. She expected him to pull the shirt up right away, but he didn't, content instead to do an exquisitely slow exploration of the skin he could reach. She could feel herself melting.

When the song ended, switching to one with a faster beat, he lifted his mouth enough to tug at her shirt. "May I?"

"God, yes." She wanted to be naked; she wanted him to touch her. It was a sudden, desperate urge.

He kissed her lightly, then tugged the shirt up and off. He draped it almost neatly on the nearest chair, then slid his hands across her skin, fingers spread wide. His palms and fingers were rough, slightly callused, and felt incredible on her. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and she reached behind her back to unhook her bra and slide it down her arms.

That made him grin, eye lighting up. He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to her throat as one hand meandered over to cup her breast. His rough thumb stroked against her nipple. She swore her knees almost gave out. "Do that again."

His teeth scraped her skin and he obeyed, moving his thumb slowly back and forth against the tightening peak. A shiver passed through her, and she felt the touch, and the heat, low in her belly. She really wanted to rip his clothes off. Maybe she'd start with reaching under his shirt and touching his skin.

She heard his breath quicken at her touch. He stepped back just long enough to take his shirt off and toss it on the same chair as hers. Him shirtless was something to behold. He had the lean, taut build of an athlete, not an inch of fat on him. "Jesus," she hissed. Now she had to touch him, to run her fingers over the contours of his muscles. She looked up, expecting a smug smile, but he was watching her intently instead.

For a moment she was a little confused at the reaction. Until her fingers found a few imperfections in his skin. Closer examination revealed a series of scars on his chest and shoulder. She touched them, counting the circles. "Are these. . . are these gunshots?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. She looked up and met his eyes. "How did you survive that?" she whispered.

He shifted uncomfortably, but gave that little half grin. "I had a very good doctor."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't—I won't—" This was a one night stand. It wasn't any of her business.

"It's all right." He stroked her hair, twining a lock around his finger, then back. "I was in a battle. I saved a friend and got shot in the process. The medic was nearby and was able to stabilize me until we got to base. Long operation, recovery time. I'm right as rain now." A grin. "You should see me run a mile."

She leaned into him, letting her breasts press against his chest. "Are you fast?"

His hands skimmed her sides. "Only when I have to be."

"I want you," she said, and kissed him slow and deep. He swayed with her again, hands roaming everywhere, stroking her breasts before going down to cup her ass and lift her up against him. It seemed an invitation to wrap her legs around his waist, so she did. He backed her against her closed bedroom door and she ground against him.

He made a noise that sounded like a growl and fumbled for the door handle, spilling them into the room. He dropped her onto her bed and bent over to take one breast in his mouth and suck hard.

"Jesus," she gasped, digging her fingers into his hair. He moved to the other breast and gave it the same treatment, making her arch her back it felt so good. That was when his hand slid down to fiddle the buttons of her fly open.  
He released her long enough to pull her jeans and underwear down, then bent close again, kissing along her ribcage. Anticipation tightened inside her. The same slow, patient exploration he'd done with his hands he now repeated with his mouth. Light, gentle kisses that didn't ask anything but seemed to burn her nonetheless. It was so damn hot.

The kisses trailed along her hip bone, then down her thigh, still light and airy, then up the other. Then he nudged her legs apart to press a kiss to her center. The sound she made was louder than she intended, but she couldn't hold it in. He wasn't slow and gentle anymore, and pleasure rocked through her. She was a woman who generally took a while, who required a man to work for it. So it took her by surprise how fast she was writhing and gripping the bedspread in desperation. But she was close, so close. 

He didn't let up, adding two fingers into her and fluttering them against her g-spot. She shuddered and screamed and then everything exploded. She'd had some wicked orgasms in her day, but this one took her breath away. Her ears were ringing as she returned to reality. 

When she opened her eyes she found Pietro lounging next to her, propped on an elbow, the other hand stroking her thigh lightly. He probably deserved the very smug smile he had on his face.

It took her a while to get words out. "That was. . . how did you do that?"

"Natural talent," he said, accent a bit thicker.

She leaned in to kiss him, tasting herself on him. "Condoms are in the nightstand. Turn your watch off and fuck me."

He chuckled and stood, shucking off his jeans and reaching for her nightstand drawer. "I pass muster, then?"

She watched him unabashedly. "I think I might have seen God, _cariño_."

"Let's not bring a third language into this," he teased, sheathing himself in a condom. Climbing back onto the bed he kissed her hard, kneeling between her legs. He hooked his arms under her legs, tugging them up as he began to slide inside her. She groaned and tipped her head back, just letting herself feel the exquisite stretch of him filling her. Then she leaned up again, wanting to watch.

When she looked up he started to move, long, sure strokes that drew him almost entirely out of her before thrusting back in. Almost like he was putting on a show. He gave her a very knowing grin, then bent his head to mouth at her breast again. It obstructed her view but felt amazing. She clutched at him, scratching his shoulders. "Please, please."

He hitched her legs higher and increased his pace, driving into her relentlessly now. His mouth moved to the other breast, tugging her nipple with his teeth. She begged him for things, but it came out has desperate, nonsensical sounds. She tried to focus through the haze of pleasure and building pressure. _Harder. More._

Pietro shifted, releasing her breast so he could kiss her mouth. One hand released her thigh and snaked down to stroke her clit, in the same rapid pace he thrust into her. That was all she needed. When she came this time is wasn't as explosive, but it was slow and deep, washing over her in waves. He groaned, slowing a little as she clenched around him. He shifted her hips, thrusting roughly a few times before burying himself deep inside her, shaking.

They lay there for a while, catching their breath. He released her legs so she could stretch them out, but she wrapped one around him for a few minutes, until he had to get up to deal with the condom. She turned her head so she could admire just how nice he looked naked.

He ducked into her bathroom to dispose of it, then came back, still delightfully, unabashedly naked, and resettled on the bed with her. He kissed her temple, but didn't say a word. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, content to enjoy the silence.

Right now she was very glad she hadn't broken her habit yet.


	2. Chapter 2

If Pietro spent the night at a woman's place at all, he generally made a point of leaving in the vicinity of dawn. He said goodbye—he wasn't a jerk—but lingering for breakfast was almost universally a bad idea. But he and Ora slept a bit, and then woke up sometime in the middle of the night for more blistering sex. When he woke again, sunlight was pouring into her bedroom.

He groaned and fumbled for his watch on the nightstand. Past nine in the morning. Thank God it was Saturday or he'd be facing the wrath of Clint for being late. As it was Wanda would probably be wondering where the hell he was. He'd text her before starting his run back home.

For now he leaned back to Ora and kissed her cheek. "I need to go."

She stretched, letting the sheet fall off her breasts. Which were even more magnificent in daylight. "It is getting late, isn't?"

"It's after nine. I should have turned into a pumpkin long ago."

He could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment on her face, but maybe he was imagining that. It was gone immediately, and she sat up. "Of course." She paused. "I had a nice time last night."

"So did I," he said. Then, breaking every rule he had he offered, "We could do it again sometime?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I thought you weren't looking for a girlfriend?"

He lifted a shoulder. "A lot of grey between one night stand and girlfriend."

She leaned over him. "For a moment I was afraid this was a bait-and-switch."

"Get you hooked on the sex then start demanding dates?"

"It could happen." She kissed him before he could reply. Cupping the back of her head, he let the kiss take off for a bit. His other hand wandered up to cup her breast. She swung her leg over to straddle him. "Maybe I should fuck you once more for the road."

"I certainly wouldn't complain."

It was ten before he finally managed to get his clothes on. Wanda had texted him twice by that point to ask if he was okay. "I don't mean to pry," Ora said while she watched him glare at his phone. "But I am also not in the mistress business."

He sighed, wondering if this was going to kill all the points he'd won. "My sister. We share a house. Woke up and I wasn't home, got worried." He cleared the text message and showed her the home screen, which had a picture of he and Wanda making goofy faces.

She grinned. "Good. Then I look forward to the booty calls."

He held the phone out. "Number?"

She typed it in, and then call herself so she had his. "Last name?"

"Maximoff. Two fs."

No reaction to the name. He noticed there was no TV in her living room. Maybe that was why. "Martinez," she replied.

"Pleased to meet you," he said with a grin. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Have a wonderful day, Ora Martinez."

"I hope I see you again," she murmured.

"I think you can pretty much count on that."

She grabbed ahold of his shirt and gave him a real kiss. "Good."

It would have been really easy to get distracted again, but Wanda was probably going to kill him as it was. So he indulged a moment, then lifted his head. "See you soon," he promised, then headed for her door.

When he got home, Wanda was awkwardly eating a bowl of cereal. "We did fight training yesterday," she muttered. "My hands hurt."

He made a sympathetic face. "Did you give the punching bag what for?"

"I made it feel my wrath," she replied. He sat across from her and pulled off his sneakers, turning them over to inspect the destroyed soles. He went through these things like ballet dancers went through toe shoes. Stark was trying to make him new ones and promised a prototype soon.

"You were out late," she commented with a carefully casual tone.

He shrugged, tossing the shoes towards the back door. They might last for walking around here. "Slept in."

"That's unusual," she replied.

After a moment of deciding what level of over share he wanted to go for, he reminded himself that he loved his sister and said, nonchalantly, "I had a good night."

He was rewarded with a smile, even though he knew she didn't approve of his activities. "Good."

"I may spend the rest of the day napping, however."

"You should at least make me lunch, since you missed breakfast."

Wanda was capable of cooking, but didn't enjoy it as much as he did. "Elaborate dinner?" he offered hopefully.

"I will accept that as a compromise."

"Thank you." He stood and stretched. "I'm going to shower and nap." He kissed her forehead.

Monday morning, FRIDAY informed him that Mr. Stark wished to see him, as his shoes were ready.  
 After feeding himself and Wanda he ran the path to the labs. He could just take the electric cars like everyone else. But he actually enjoyed starting his day with a run, even if it wasn't the same level of exercise Steve or Clint might have gotten out of it. It still helped him wake up. 

Stark's lab was a massive open space with a bunch of different stations. Sometimes there were a ton of other people in there, sometimes just him. Today there was a smattering of minions and Bruce Banner loitering around a table lined with shoes.

"Sorry," Bruce said. "Tony had an emergency."

"I should be worried emergency or Tony emergency?"

Bruce sighed. "He told me to tell you it was important Avenger business." He made air quotes. "I can also tell you that, coincidentally, Ruby conked her head on my dishwasher door and needed to be checked out by Doc."

Stark tried to pretend he was not a hovering parent, but he absolutely was. "I hope she enjoys the new dollhouse and Power Wheel he is sure to build her."

"I'm just hoping to keep him from lining the entire inside of my house with foam."

"That would be awkward. Though possibly a benefit to Neil." Bruce's son was kind of a tornado. Pietro heartily approved.

"Yes, but unlike Ruby, Neil's head is made of concrete. Anyway. Shoes." He gestured at the table.

"Right." They went over what everything was made of, then Pietro started testing them out. Pair one disintegrated halfway back to the lab. Pair two pinched awkwardly and the soles were heavy enough to mess up his stride. Pair three were a vast improvement.

"I think I have a blister forming," he complained, handing the third pair back to Bruce. "Though that could be from trying them all on and off."

"Blister's probably from #2. I'm wondering if we should work on socks, though, too."

"I feel like that would help." He tilted his head. "And have more consumer potential than the shoes."

"Planning on starting us a line of athletic gear?"

"Well, with kids to raise I know Stark needs all the money he can get."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Anyway, take the shoes, test them out a little longer, let us know."

"Will do." He laced on his old ones and tucked the new pair into his backpack. "How're the kids? Baby letting you sleep yet?" Wanda would ask when she found out he dealt with Bruce and not Tony.

He grinned widely, as this was clearly his favorite topic. "The colic has stopped, so everyone is happier about that. She's starting to smile. Ada's starting 3rd grade this year. Neil built himself ladder out of lawn furniture, toys, garbage cans and whatever else he could forage and nearly got over the fence." He shook his head. "Kid's got grace and balance that would put Barton to shame."

"Going to have to find that boy an outlet soon," Pietro said. "Before he pulls a Stark and builds a robot out of scraps."

"Violet and I are a little concerned what he and Ruby might get up to in a couple of years."

"The kids are going to take over sooner or later."

Bruce laughed. "Tell me something I don't know." He inclined his head. "Let me know how the shoes go."

"Will do." He gave a little salute and strolled out of the lab.

*

Ora was seriously late for her 10:30 class.

She didn't know why she did summer school. Last year she'd said never again, yet here she was. Because, just like last summer, she needed the money.

And it kept her busy. Kept her from thinking.

"Sorry, guys," she said as she pushed the door open with her shoulder. Her class was full of people. "Wow, you're all still here. I'm going to give out some apology extra credit."

"Rough weekend, Dr. Martinez?" one of them asked from the front row.

She pulled her laptop out of her bag and put it down on the desk so she could pull up her notes. "Yes," she said dryly. "I partied hard all weekend." She _had_ gone to a bar and picked up a guy she wasn't sure was a whole lot older than the kid she was talking to.

Well, no. He was probably at least grad school aged. 

Linguistics 101 was a class she could teach in her sleep, but she made an effort to keep it interesting. Summer Session had much smaller classes, so it was harder for bored kids to catch a nap. She empathized. It was July, and hot as the dickens outside.

All she could think, as she made her way back across the parking lot in the blazing sun three hours later, was how much she missed California. She missed California in the miserably cold winter, too. She really needed to make peace with that part of her life being over. She needed to find something better to think about than regret.

She'd left the air in her apartment cranked up, so it was blissfully cold when she got back. It improved her mood, and she flopped on the couch and pulled out her computer. She really actually _had_ enjoyed the hell out of her weekend. That had been the best sex she'd had in years. So much so, she was considering breaking all her rules and seeing him again. 

She should probably make sure he wasn't, like, a felon or a con artist or something, so she typed his name into Google. Pietro Maximoff was a weird enough name there had to be something.

There was a frightening amount of hits. The first half dozen were recent news stories with headlines like "Avengers New Recruits" and "The Next Generation of Superhero." Below that was a full page of fan sites. Out of curiosity she clicked the second page which had two more fan site, then a long list of fan fictions starring him.

_You should see me run a mile._

She closed her laptop and put it on her coffee table. This was officially a testament to how out of touch she'd gotten. She'd managed to sleep with an Avenger and not notice. She had to give him credit for not mentioning it, though. Most the the Avengers were married, and she sort of assumed the two that weren't would practically have t-shirts printed announcing that fact. They could have anyone they wanted. Maybe he didn't want to be that guy.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened her laptop again. 

The first article she clicked on was from a gossip site. She skimmed it, then went back and checked the web addresses more carefully until she found one from a relatively reputable source. This one had more information about him and his sister.

It lined up with that little he'd told her. Sokovian, orphaned young. Joined the Avengers after the incident last fall. No mention of him being shot, though maybe that predated the group. He had been experimented on by Hydra and could now run at superhuman speeds.

He hadn't been there during the fall of SHIELD. During the information dump. He'd been a victim of Hydra himself. So maybe it was okay. Maybe.

Not that he'd call her. He'd been a little out of her league even before discovering he was a superhero. Well, if she got lonely maybe some of the fan fic would be decent.

On Wednesday, after two more uncomfortably hot days of summer school, she got a text. 

_Busy Friday night?_

She stared at it and hemmed and hawed for hours. It had been _really_ good sex.

_I might have an opening in my calendar._

_If I were to knock on your door around eight o'clock, would I be welcome?_

She grinned, deciding she needed to go shopping for some new lingerie. In for a penny. . . _I'll even leave the door unlocked._

_That's dangerous. Disreputable men could sneak in._

_Kinda the point, cariñio._

She could practically _hear_ the crooked grin when he replied, _I'm completely reputable._

_I'll see you at 8._

_Can't wait._

She tucked her phone into her pocket. She really hoped she didn't regret this.

*

What - if anything - to bring on a second night stand was not something covered in etiquette books. Stark would probably know, but that would require telling Stark he had a booty call he liked enough to bring something to, which seemed a bad idea.

Pietro settled on a bottle of good wine - but not so good she'd be suspicious how he could afford it - said his goodbyes to Wanda and ran into town.

As promised, her door was open. He could hear the music from the hallway. He knocked anyway, and then pushed the door open. It was dim and cozy, like she'd had it the first night. He heard humming to his right and turned. She was lean on the fridge door to get something from the inside, so all he could see was the lower half of her body. Clad in lacy red underwear and very high heels, one foot tucked behind the other ankle.

Concerned his grin was going to split his face, he mustered up the brain power to whistle at her. She startled, and cracked her head on the freezer door hard enough to rattle it. She straightened, and swayed, and he dashed over to catch her before she lost her balance.

"Sorry," he said. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her head and turning in his arms. She was wearing a matching bra that did amazing things to her cleavage. "So much for. . ." she waved a hand, he guessed to indicate the general ambiance.

"No, no. It still works." He shifted her and held up the wine. "I brought refreshments."

She grinned at him. "What's the matter, afraid to do this sober?"

"Next time I won't bring you nice things."

Ora leaned up and sucked his lower lip between hers. She whispered, "Yeah, you will."

He hummed in pleasure, kissing her properly a moment. "Yes. I probably will." She took the bottle from him, setting it on the counter so they could continue kissing.

He danced her around the room a bit as they kissed, stroking his hands over all the lovely skin her outfit revealed. "You buy this for me?" he asked, pressing a kiss below her ear. "Or you just have it lying around?"

Her hands were under his shirt. "Maybe I just like sitting around in my living room dressed like this."

"I chose to believe that's true."

She nudged him to lift his arms so she could pull his shirt off. She bent her head and kissed his chest. "Sometimes," she murmured between kisses, "I'm naked."

Pietro framed her waist in his hands and lifted her onto the counter so he could kiss her easier. He trailed a line of kisses along her cleavage. "I'm intrigued."

She reached behind herself and unhooked her bra, letting it gap forward. He took the invitation to pull the straps down. "I live alone. Why bother with a bathrobe?"

"You make a valid point." The bra looked expensive, so he set it on the counter next to her rather than tossing it aside. Cupping one breast in his hand, he bent to take the nipple in his mouth. The sound she made was very sexy, and she arched her back for him. 

As he moved to the other breast, she wiggled her arm between them to pop the top button of his fly. "Bedroom? Here?"

"I'm good with here. To start," he added, digging in his pocket for the condom he'd shoved there on his way out the door. She took it from him, and held it in her teeth. Then she braced her hands on the counter and lifted herself up off of it a few inches so he could drag her underwear down. The kiss that followed was deep and intense.

He took the condom back, breaking the kiss long enough to sheath himself. Then he tugged her hips to the very edge of the counter and took her mouth again as he slid home. She wrapped her arms and her legs around him, holding them so close together they were mostly just rocking together. All slow friction and heat.

They kept the kiss going and he let his hands wander, stroking her skin. He cupped her breasts and teased them as they rocked, adding to her sensation. She whimpered and dug her nails into his skin, and he was surprised to feel her pulse around him. He held her close as she did. When she relaxed he was able to move more, going the pace he needed to reach his own climax. He lifted her up a little off the counter at the end, and she gasped. There were little flutters again just as he let go.

He hid his proud grin into her shoulder, easing her back onto the count as they both panted. Eventually she murmured, "Anticipation is a many splendored thing."

Pietro chuckled. "Amen. I've been thinking of this on and off all day."

She kissed his shoulder. "I've been mostly 'on'."

"I think I'm flattered." He stroked a hand down her back, giving her hip a little squeeze.

She shivered a little. "Bed."

"Yes'm." He shifted to scoop her up in his arms and carried her back towards the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

They lay wrapped around each of for a bit, long enough he contemplated getting round two underway. Then she asked, "We're going to keep doing this, aren't we?"

He leaned back to look at her in an effort to gauge the spirit in which it had been asked. "I think that's likely, yes."

"Can we. . . keep it like this?"

"Like what? All sex and no dating? Or the level of sex quality. Because everyone has bad days, honey."

She laughed. "I don't have space in my life for a relationship. But this is fun and way better than average, and I hate the bars."

He twined her hair around his fingers. "This works for me. I'm not much of a relationship person."

"Your sister needs you?"

That was a little blunter than he might have liked, but not untrue. He shrugged. "We have only had each other for a long time."

"It wasn't an accusation. We as a society venerate romantic love more than it deserves, and discount all the rest. It's important to take care of those who matter most to you. Just because the biological imperative to reproduce is very strong shouldn't mean we abandon those who need us just pursue it. Though many people often do."

Well, if he ever did introduce her to the rest of them, she'd fit in just fine. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Are you a sociologist?"

"Linguistics is my field. Some study of sociology and anthropology is helpful if your research is historical, which mine is."

"Historical linguistics. . . dead languages?"

"More like the evolution of languages over time. Though that does include study of the dead ones."

He made his interested noise. Wanda would probably enjoy chatting with her. She picked up languages easily, thanks to her powers, and found them fascinating. "How many do you speak?"

"Fluently? Sixteen. I can read about 30, with varying degrees of comprehension."

HIs brows went up. "Sokovian?"

She shook her head. "Though I speak Russian, there are enough cognates we could manage if we had to. If you start talking to me in it I will pick it up. That's how I learn. Live is faster then audio/video, but I've done that, too."

"Would be nice to have someone else to talk to," he said. "I miss it. And it could entertain us in between rounds."

"I haven't learned a new one in a while." He sensed there was a great deal more to that, Something that made her very sad. But it was not his place to press.

He pressed a gentle kiss into her shoulder. "It was a thought."

"No, I. . . It would be good. Make this an educational venture as well. At least at times when my brain isn't mush."

"Mmm. I see my priorities becoming contradictory."

She nestled closer to him. "We'll figure it out."

That seemed like a bit of an invitation, so he let his hands go wandering. "You're working on a masters? Ph.D?" She went very still. So much so that he did the same. "What?"

She rolled over and looked at him. She had an odd look on her face. "How old do you think I am?"

That seemed like a question without a good answer. "My age?" he offered. "Twenty seven, twenty eight?"

She scrunched her face, then sat up and looked at the ceiling, muttering something in what he thought sounded like Spanish—though who knew if she spoke that many languages. "I'm a professor. I _teach_ linguistics at Cornell."

He stared at her a moment. "Huh. How old _are_ you, then?"

She sighed heavily. "Thirty-four."

She looked so miserable, he sort of felt bad chuckling. He leaned over and kissed her nose. "Cradle robber."

"I suppose I should take the compliment."

"You are very sexy," he told her. "No matter your age."

Her eyes searched his face. "It's not weird?"

He shrugged. "Why should it be? We're both adults. I'm not your student. It doesn't change anything for me."

"My students are like 19. I'd probably draw a line there."

"That's probably good." He kissed her. "I'll be twenty-eight in a couple months, if that helps."

"Only until I turn 35." She kissed him back, letting him pull her back down. Of course, this was just a fling. Friends with benefits. Who knew if it would even go on that long. It did give him the perfect excuse to initiate that second round he'd been hoping for.

*

It was Saturday, the following week. Having him over sure beat the bars, she'd say that. He came early enough to eat dinner. She ordered takeout, which they ended up eating it cold, half dressed and sitting at her coffee table. 

"Maybe we should stop pretending we are going to do anything but immediately get naked when you walk in the door."

He held a lo mein noodle over his open mouth and dropped it in. It was very boy. "That's probably a good idea. Though I have no issue with cold Chinese food."

"All of the Ithaca Chinese food tastes like ass, anyway."

"Mmm. I'm not picky."

"I can see that about you." From everything she'd read about him, she could only assume he had to eat a tremendous amount of food to keep up with his own body. 

"The stuff in the city _was_ better," he conceded, digging through the boxes for the last potsticker.

"It's even better in California."

His brows went up as he chewed. "Is that where you're from?"

"Born and raised. Except for a couple of years at Princeton for my Ph.D. I hated New Jersey and couldn't wait to get back home."

If he was wondering what she was now doing in Ithaca of all places, it didn't show on his face. "I've never been. Have a friend who used to live there. He raves about it."

"It doesn't snow. I lived in the Bay Area for a while, and there it's never too hot, either." Thinking about Stanford, about home. . . well, that didn't take her mind anywhere good. She cleared her throat. "Good Asian food."

To her relief, he let her drop it. "No Asian food in Sokovia. Good pastries. My sister bakes sometimes."

Ora's sister baked. Jacinta's goodies were one of the biggest things she'd missed at Christmas. She should have gone home. Her mother had begged her to come. But shame and grief were powerful things.

This was why she didn't have relationships. Every damn conversation was a minefield. She aimed for a light tone anyway. "You should being some over."

"We have a pregnant friend stealing most of it. But I will try to smuggle some out. Just for you."

She wondered idly if Sharon Rogers was his pregnant friend. There was a certain section of the tabloid media that was particularly obsessed with Captain America's Baby. So at the moment if you googled things about the Avengers, you'd also see pictures of her and her bump walking on random sidewalks. 

He hadn't mentioned who he was, and neither had she. She wondered if he knew she knew, or if maybe he was enjoying being normal for a while. She found herself disinclined to press. "I will reward you for tasty food."

He grinned widely. "Based on the treatment I get normally I'm not sure I'd survive reward sex."

"You survived like six gunshots, I think you'll survive a peppermint blowjob."

He laughed. "I'm not sure I want a blowjob that can be fairly compared to gun shot wounds."

"Cowardice does not become you, Maximoff."

Poking her with his foot, he said, "Don't try to engage my competitive edge. I've not yet rebounded."

"That's unfortunate." She stood up, and stripped off the bits of clothing she was still wearing. "I'm going to go start without you."

His brows went up again and he leaned back in his spot on the couch. "Well. That sounds intriguing."

"I have to do something on the other six nights, don't I?"

"That image will certainly help _me_ get through the next six nights."

She grinned at him. "You're welcome to watch."

He folded his hands behind his head in the stereotypical male pose. "It would certainly inspire that second round."

She poked him with her foot. "Come on, then. My toys are in the bedroom."

He bounced to his feet, almost too fast for her to follow. "Lead the way."

That was cool. She opened her mouth to ask him to zip her into the bedroom. To show off his power. But now was not the time for an awkward conversation. So she just help out her hand. He took it and bent to kiss it, before following her back to her room.

They drifted in the dark together afterwards. She'd forgotten how nice it was to sleep next to someone. "You're really good at this," she told him.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. "Likewise."

"Maybe it's the combination." Was that too much? Implying there was something special about them? Maybe, but she was basking in the afterglow and didn't quite care.

His fingers trailed along the skin of her arm. "Some things are better together than apart. Bourbon and coke. Peanut butter and jelly."

There was something funny about the silence that followed, and so she ventured, "You want a PBJ, now, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say _no_ to one. . ."

He always wanted a middle of the night snack. "You're going to eat me out of house and home, you know that?"

"I promise to bring you baked goods," he told her, nomming on her shoulder jokingly.

She swatted him. "Fine, fine. You and your enhanced metabolism."

He went quiet, leaning away from her. "What?"

Ora winced. Then she sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, I was—I'm tired."

Tilting his head, one corner of his mouth quirked up. "Did you google me?"

"Of course I did. I like to know who I'm sleeping with if I'm going to do it more than once."

"You mad I didn't tell you?"

She folded the corner of the sheet absently. "I assumed you had your reasons. Maybe you liked being normal with me." She glanced at him. "Or maybe it's because it's just sex. In any case, you're entitled to your privacy." 

"I do like being normal." He shrugged. "I don't get recognized a lot, but it does happen. It did make telling stories complicated."

"I'm not a fangirl. I'm not even particularly interested in hearing Avenger stories."

He tilted his head, looking at her askance, but nodded. "All right then."

"If you _want_ a fangirl—"

"No, no. I'm good. There's a reason I don't advertise."

She smiled and nodded. He really did make her happy. It was such a strange sensation. "Still want the sandwich?"

"Now that you know about the metabolism, I want two."

"But you own me baked goods," she said, and she gave him a kiss before getting up.

"You have my word as a Maximoff!" he called after her.

*

Pietro spent the next week wondering how to actually get baked goods from Wanda without mentioning who it was for. Wanda didn't like hearing about his recreational activities. He made her extra-fancy breakfasts, and tried not to wonder too loudly if it would be against the rules to make Ora breakfast.

Then one afternoon after training, Wanda came home and asked him vague question about dating. He told her there wasn't room in his life right now for a relationship. It wasn't a lie. Not really. What he had with Ora wasn't a relationship, certainly not the way Wanda would define it. It was sex and food and occasional conversation. It was nice and seemed to work for the both of them. She had certainly never said anything about it being more. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do if she did.

It was soon very apparent that Wanda's questions had not been without a particular purpose.

"My sister is going on a date," he informed Ora rather morosely.

"That's a good thing," she told him. "Stop making that face."

"She's my sister, I'll make any face I want."

"You don't think she deserves companionship? Company? Someone to make her munchies in the middle of the night?"

He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them when he realized it made him look like he was sulking. Which he was, but still. "He better not be doing anything to her in the middle of the night."

"You know, many of the women you are doing things with in the middle of the night are someone's sister."

"I try not to think about that." Come to think of it, he had no idea if Ora had siblings. Or if it would be all right to ask.

"Don't be one of those madonna-whore guys, Pietro. I'd be very disappointed."

"I don't think it's unreasonable to be protective of my little sister. Old habits die hard."

"You can be protective of her. You can inspect him for Jerk Tells. You can scare the pants off him if you want to so he understands he has to treat her with respect. That all has nothing to do with consensual sex at 2 AM."

"Hmph." Now he did cross his arms. He'd met the guy - Zev - briefly and he'd seemed nice enough. He had made a point of kissing Wanda in front of Pietro, which took some balls. "He's deaf. She speaks to him in sign language. And ordered me to be nice."

"Were you?" she asked, her voice indicating there was only one acceptable answer.

" _Yes_. I don't know what she thought I'd do to him. We were only in the same room a few minutes."

"My brother cleaned his nails with a switchblade while my prom date was picking me up."

That surprised a laugh out of him. "Did you smack him?"

"Words were exchanged later." He watched sadness shadow her face. Talking about her brother caused her grief.

He reached out and rubbed her arm with his knuckles. She inhaled through her nose and shook her head. He saw that on her sometimes. Something innocuous would provoke a moment of intense grief, and then it would be gone and she would be herself again. He got the sense that something bad had happened to her, once.

Taking his hand back, he said, "Wanda wouldn't stop at words. She'd wallop me. Or I'd be finding snakes in my bed for a week."

That made Ora smile. "Sounds like she has you well in hand."

"Oh, we both know who's boss." He added, "She'd like you."

"Sounds like I'd like her, too." That would be too much, though, wouldn't it?

He wrapped some of her hair around a finger. "So you think I'm being a jerk?"

"I think some of it's genuine overprotectiveness. I think some of it's fear. She is bringing someone into her life, when it used to be just the two of you."

That was a part of it. The part he'd been trying not to think about. "I suppose it would be worse. I've had a little practice letting other people in."

"So you _do_ occasionally have relationships?" She held up her hands. "Not a dig, just curious."

He grinned. "Reassuring, but I meant more in the platonic way. With the team."

"You're all close?" she asked.

"Like family. Brothers, sisters. A mom or two. Plus a bunch have kids who love when Uncle Pietro runs them around."

"That sounds really nice," she said quietly.

"It is," he agreed, wary of saddening her again.

She seemed to sense the eggshells, so she said, "I have a big family. Some things happened and we're not really on good terms anymore."

That, he imagined was the source of the sad. And likely a long story. Well, he had plenty of stories he preferred not to tell. Who was he to judge? "Back in California?"

"Yeah. It's why I'm here. I needed a change of scenery." She looked up at him, and for a second he thought she might say more. Then she just left it there, the air a little heavy.

He reached out and tucked her close, against his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're here." Woah, that sounded too far. "You make excellent peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," he added.

She snuggled closer and murmured, "We all have our skills." He remembered when all he had was Wanda. He couldn't imagine having nobody. Maybe he could introduce her to Wanda or some of the less Avengery team members. Violet was normal. Everyone liked Violet. And Cal and Darcy weren't famous. Surely if they were friends with benefits they could still do friend things.

She flattened her palm on his abdomen. "Come to bed?" If a conversation made her uncomfortable, he'd noticed, she defaulted to distracting him with sex.

He kissed the top of her head and let the train of thought go. Not the time for such decisions. "As you wish."

Friday night, Wanda had her date. Pietro wanted Zev to come into the house so he could eyeball him one last time. His sister did not agree.

"Getting sized up by a girl's loved ones is a time honored tradition," he argued.

"For when you are 17, which I am not. And this is not The Old Country, either."

"Well I never got the opportunity when we were seventeen. Let me have this."

"I don't glare at your conquests."

That was hardly the point. "If they ever came to the house, I would let you." Wanda turned her head like she did when she was listening. "Is that him?"

She gave him her Avenger Look. "I will pin you to the wall like a beetle."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. I'll stay out of sight. I'm the least of your problems."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't have a sniper rifle and turret." She glared at him. "Hey, I'm not you're only brother anymore." 

"I'm leaving now. Please do not be sitting on the porch like a red neck when I get back."

"I make no promises," he muttered. He lurked next to the door as she left.

He checked his phone, finding a message from Clint. _Target acquired._

_She wouldn't let me glare at him from the porch. How're we looking?_

_They're holding hands in the car._

_That's annoyingly adorable._

_Maybe he's not that bad._

_Oh, I think he's fine. I just want to make sure he knows she's taken care of._

Once she was off the property, he went about reheating himself some dinner and settled in to watch some TV. Exciting Friday night.

His phone beeped an hour later. This time it was Ora. _Maybe I should tell you about the nookie you're missing by sitting home like an overprotective dad._

He grinned. _If you really wanted to rub it in, you'd send pictures._

The pause was long enough he though she might actually do it, but then she replied with, _Sorry, strict No Nudie Shots policy._

_Darnn._ He hadn't really expected her to. _It's just because it's her first date._

_Your sister is a powerful telekinetic. The only hurt she can't protect herself from is the kind you can't do anything about with a show of force._

_Well, that's why I'm here. Because if she comes in the door crying I'm gonna be here with the shoulder and the tissues._

_You're a good brother, Pietro._

That pleased him inordinately. _Thank you, I try._


	4. Chapter 4

They texted back and forth for a while, before he decided fat-fingering a conversation on a tiny keyboard all night didn't sound like fun, and called her. "This isn't fair," she told him. "Now I can't pretend I'm out having fun without you."

"You can turn a movie up in the back. I'll pretend."

"Let me just go look up that film classic Ambient Bar Sounds on iTunes."

He laughed. "Be sure to fade it in and out for authenticity."

"It would be more fun if you were here."

"I'll come over tomorrow. I promise."

"I'm going to have to check my calendar to see if I'm available."

"Oh, dear. Well, be sure to get back to me on that."

She chuckled, and if he closed his eyes he could picture her smile. "Does she know about us? Your sister."

He hesitated before answering. "Not really. Though she might be starting to suspect something."

"I was just curious. I imagine it's not the sort of thing one usually discusses with siblings."

"Previously she's wanted to know as little as possible about my nocturnal dealings." Though if she realized he was seeing the same woman over and over there would almost certainly be questions.

"Sometimes I'm just curious about the other parts of you. The parts that aren't—that I don't see." She had been about to say _That aren't mine._ Somehow he was sure of that.

"You can always ask," he said, aiming for a light tone. "I'm an open book."

"Tell me something I don't know, then."

He tipped his head back, pondering. "Most of what I can think of is depressing."

"Most of my story is depressing, too," she replied, her voice soft.

He didn't doubt that for a second. "I was orphaned when I was ten."

"That's in your public info," she replied, sympathy in her voice. "Your building was bombed."

"By Stark technology. My parents were killed immediately. Wanda and I were trapped for two days with an unexploded bomb."

"Jesus," she whispered. People were always horrified. He'd never discussed it with anyone—not that he discussed it a lot—without them being horrified. Except for Darcy Lewis, who'd told him her husband had also been trapped under a building for two days, and that Pietro should totally talk to him. Cal had been kind of excited he was no longer the only "Rubble Guy" on the team.

"We went to an orphanage after that."

"I assume that was as awful as I'm imagining?"

"The word I've been told to use is Dickensian. We didn't stay there long." The worst part was that they had a girls room and a boys room, all full of bunk beds. Forcing them apart and in rooms full of strangers. Some of the kids had been very big, and very mean.

"Where did you go?"

"The street." It was safer. There were still people bigger and meaner but at least they were together. And they had a whole city to hide in.

"I'm sorry, Pietro," she said. "That sounds really, really rough."

"It was." And all a bit of a blur, to be honest. Oh, certain bad days and good moments stood out. But mostly it was just a long slog of hunger and fear and anger. "It's over now, though," he said, surprised at his own optimism. "Life is better now."

"Good. But I still wish you were here so I could hug you."

"Well, if you manage to fit me in your schedule tomorrow you can owe me one."

"I'll make the time," she said, sounding like more of a promise than she'd probably intended.

"Do I get any of your secrets now?"

"My past is nothing compared to yours."

He clicked his tongue. "Oh, if we make it a competition we'll never get anywhere."

"Well. . . my secret is that I don't have any. Everything-- _everything_ \--is on the internet."

That was. . . unexpected. "How did that happen?"

"I got quite a bit of renown in my field for how fast I pick up languages. SHIELD noticed me, thought I might be telepathic." Her voice was clipped, cold. It reminded him oddly of the way Barton talked when he was very angry. "They put me under observation. It's a level of full time surveillance that would make China blush, and I had no idea it was even happening."

Pietro blew out a long, slow breath. "So you were in their files when they got dumped on the internet."

"A student angry about a bad grade dug it up. And then it pretty much ruined my life."

"I'm sorry, Ora."

"You didn't do it." Though he did certainly know some of those who did. "I used to teach at Stanford. I came out here to get away from everything.

"I can see why you aren't eager for Avenger stories," he said gently, aiming for a bit of a tease.

"Yeah. Not a lot of magic there." She sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't associate them with SHIELD anymore. And there were good reasons for the data dump. I just. . ."

"It's hard to have your life ruined. You want to put a face on it. Have someone to hate." God knew he and Wanda had hated Tony good and proper for a long time. That hatred had spawned some terrible things that were still hard to live with.

"It's good we're not trying to have a real relationship," she said. "I can see how it would get awkward."

"Well, you wouldn't be the first person to deck someone at one of our parties. But it's usually someone pissed at Stark."

Ora laughed. "I will keep that in mind."

They talked for hours. He couldn't remember the last time he a conversation—let alone a phone call—that long. She stayed on the line while he cooked dinner, and he wondered what would happen if he just. . . invited her over. She probably wouldn't have wanted to come into the complex, anyway. 

He stayed on the line while she took a bath. He listened to the splashing and really wished he could go over there.

She was telling him funny stories about her first winter in Ithaca when his text messages beeped. He looked to find a message from Barton. _Wanda's back. Ripped through the fence at a run._

_Well. Shit._ "I have to go," he told Ora. "Wanda's back and I don't think it went well."

"Ok. I'll be here if you need anything." And then she hung up, saving him from having to spend any more time on the ritual exchange of goodbyes. He went out on the porch to look for Wanda, and resisted the urge to sprint out there and carry her home.

His phone pinged again while he waited. _Barnes and I can be armed and mobilized in 15 minutes._ When he'd come here, he'd had no idea how nice having brothers was.

*

Pietro had texted her that he couldn't come over Saturday because Wanda needed him. He didn't explain, but she knew enough about bad dates to understand.

When she didn't hear anything the following Friday, she wondered if maybe he'd looked her file up and changed his mind about her. That Saturday night she got a text from him just as she was getting into bed at an embarrassingly early hour. _Doing work on the house. The Spirit wants to booty call you. The Flesh is dead._

She laughed. _Still not sending you nudie shots._

_But it might inspire the Flesh sufficiently._ A pause. _That sounded less creepy in my head._

_If you really want naked pictures of me, there actually are ones on the internet somewhere. Though they're not all that sexy._

_That would be wrong on so many levels._

She was really sad she wasn't going to get to see him this weekend. She wanted to offer to come over there. Rub his sore muscles and he'd make her laugh and they'd just sleep. She rubbed her eyes. It would be a bad idea to get emotionally involved. 

But she thought it might already be too late.

_Maybe next week?_

_Oh definitely. I believe I'm getting sexed out of my home next weekend._

_Well then you must come here, and I will comfort you._

_You're good to me, thank you._ Another pause. _She seems very serious about this guy._

She had a feeling that bothered him. She could understand why. _That's a good thing, isn't it?_

_I guess. He obviously cares about her. He's willing to put up with a lot._

_Good. She should be happy. We're not meant to be alone._

There was a long pause and she wondered if he'd read something into that. _She better let me glower at him a little more before this gets serious._

_If he's really serious about her, HE will let you._

_That's a good point. So I have that to look forward to._

She contemplated her phone for a moment. _I was going to lay down. You want me to call you._

_Sure. I like the sound of your voice._

That warmed her to her toes. "So," she said when he picked up. "Tell me about the interloper."

He chuckled, that deep rumbly one she liked so much. "His name is Zev, he's a grad student at Cornel. He's deaf."

"ASL is on my list of languages I'd like to learn. I've wondered if the way my brain works with learning by ear will translate into visuals."

"Wanda uses it to communicate with him. He has a translator for work and group settings. That's actually how they met, his interpreter was sick and she helped him out."

She got into bed and turned off the light. "That's kind of a meet-cute."

"Our friends have officially labeled them a romantic comedy of some sort."

He told her about his sister blowing out the car windows on that first date, and about how suddenly he'd gotten roped into building a sex room in their attic. 

"No, no, no, I'm going to need you to stop talking," she told him at one point. "You've conjured the mental image of you and half the male Avengers shirtless and sweaty swinging hammers. I'm going to need a minute."

"It happens more often than you'd think. Clint likes to build things and usually ropes me and the soldiers into helping. Sometimes Tony when it's technical."

"Have you ever considered taking pictures?"

"And selling them to the tabloids?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. These would be just for me."

"If you want to ogle us you need to come line up in the lawn chairs with a pitcher of lemonade like the other women."

"Do they seriously do that?"

"Some of them." There was rustling, as if he was getting resettled. "Nat does it pretty often. Sharon has started to do it more, I think the pregnancy hormones are getting to her. Doc is usually busy during the day but will make a show of it on weekend or if she stops by for lunch or something."

The idea of her going and sitting with those women sounded pretty impossible. Would he even want her to? She wasn't going to ask. "Are you in bed?"

"I am. Probably gonna pass out in my clothes."

"Oh, no way. You have to take them off. You'll ruin my mental picture otherwise."

"Why is your mental picture more important than my complete exhaustion?"

" _If_ you were to provide me with a proper mental picture, I would then tell you what I would do to you if I was there."

There was a pause. "Hang on." She heard a bunch of shuffling around and a couple of Sokovian mutterings before he came back on the line. "All right."

Hours later, they both fell asleep with the phone next to their ear.

The following weekend, he texted her about coming over. She informed him there were Ladies Things happening, and he replied that he didn't care _what_ was going on, he was not staying in his house while Wanda and Zev tested the Sex Room. Also, he had a sister and was pretty immune to period stuff. He'd spent so many years stealing supplies from stores for his sister that he had opinions on brands. So he came over and watched movies.

She lay on the couch with her head in his lap while he rubbed her back in little circles, right where it was sore. "I get to pick the next one," he said. "And it's going to have explosions."

"Okay. But it has to pass the Bechdel test."

He paused, apparently going through his mental list of movies. "What if the female lead has a character arc that doesn't revolve around a love interest?"

She turned her head and looked up at him. "You seriously know what the Bechdel test is?"

"Have you missed the part about the sister and gaggle of strong independent women I work with?"

"Fair enough. In that case, I trust you to pick the movie."

"Thank you," he said, pulling her lap top over to scroll through for the one he was thinking of. "This is fun."

"Watching movies?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Hanging out."

She smiled. It was very relationship-y thing to do. That probably should alarm her. It probably should make him back off. But she felt kind of miserable and he made her happy. She wanted him to be here, just to rub her back and sleep next to her. To make her laugh and. . . feel safe. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt safe. They would probably have to stop soon, before it broke her heart, but not tonight. "It is, isn't it?"

"Of course at my house a super intelligent AI brings up movies for me. So I can be even lazier."

"Yes, but then you'd be there listening to your sister shake the roof."

He shuddered dramatically. "True."

"Pick a movie, _cariño_ , or I'm going to put on a chick flick."

Very deliberately, he held her gaze and clicked something on the computer and a new movie started up on the TV. She grinned and snuggled closer to him. In truth, she'd watch pretty much anything right now. His hand resettled on her back and resumed rubbing as the opening credits started to roll.

*

Coming home to a trashed kitchen, which given what he knew of Wanda's powers indicated that they'd probably had sex _in_ it, was pretty horrifying. But then his sister stumbled downstairs looking as happy as he'd seen her in a long time, and he sighed and called Darcy to have the cleaning service make a special emergency trip and took Wanda out for brunch.

"So it went well, I take it?" he asked in as neutral tones as possible.

"The house is still standing." She grinned at him. "Oh. Did you tell the cleaning people to go up to the third floor? There's kind of a mess with the feathers."

He stared at her. "Feath- No. I don't want to know. I didn't tell them to go up there. Clean up your own feathers."

She gave him a look and pulled out her phone. "I'll text Darcy. And yes. It went well. I really like him. Thank you for giving me space."

"You're welcome. I'm glad he continues to be worthy of you."

"Could we maybe talk about how _much_ space you'd be willing to give me?"

His brows went up. "What are you planning?"

"Things you really don't want me to describe."

"Jesus," he muttered. "How often are you kicking me out?"

"I don't know. But you go out and you have lots of. . .that, all the time. I'd like to have some, too, is all. Only I can't go elsewhere."

She made an excellent point. "All right. I'm sure I can find somewhere to go."

Wanda smiled brilliantly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It's good to see you happy."

She ate her eggs, and studied him. "Are you happy?"

He glanced at her, surprised at the question. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been closed off a lot lately. You usually do that when you're having bad dreams and don't want me to see."

Shrugging, he poked at his eggs a bit. "No dreams. Just thinking some stuff I'm not ready to share."

She frowned at him, but she didn't press. "You can still talk to me, you know. Zev doesn't mean things are or will be different between us."

"I know." And whatever his other feelings about her dating he did know that was true. It would take more than a boyfriend to change what they were to each other. "There's just some things I like to sort through on my own." He wasn't ready to share Ora with her just yet. Or the odd tangle of thoughts and feelings he had for her. "When I'm ready, you'll be the first to know."

She squeezed his hand, understanding. She always did. "Okay."

Wednesday, Wanda went to dinner with Zev. She didn't ask him to clear out, but he volunteered. Then it occurred to him that he should probably make sure he had somewhere to go.

_I don't mind,_ Ora replied when he texted her. _But I warn you Weekday Me is really boring._

_Are you grading tests? Can you do it wearing a bun and spectacles and glare at me over the top?_

There was a long pause. _I can if you want._

He grinned. He'd been kidding, but points for being game. _I'll bring take out and a book. I won't bother you._

_Well, I hope you'll bother me a little._

_Only if you ask nicely._

_I know all your spots._

_Prove it and I'll cook you breakfast in the morning._

He could absolutely picture the look on her face. _Challenge accepted._

When he arrived with Italian take-out and an overnight bag, she was on the couch with papers spread out in front of her. There were no glasses, but her hair was back in a messy bun. "I come bearing lasagna and garlic bread."

"You are an officer and a gentleman," she told him.

"I live to serve." He started setting up on her kitchen table. "Want me to bring yours over there?"

“Yes, please. Then I can tell you about how bafflingly stupid Ivy League students can sometimes be."

"And I would love to hear it." He wondered, as he brought their food over, when they'd reached this level of comfort with each other. 

She cleared space on the couch. "Read some of those," she said, pointing to a pile. "You write better while thumb-texting and you learned English after puberty."

He sat next to her and flipped through some of the papers she'd indicated, making an effort not to get sauce on them. "I think these are making me stupider," he said after the fourth one.

"Don't get too dumb," she said without looking up. "I have a strict IQ requirement for Lady Parts access."

"I'll stop reading, then." He tossed the paper away and dug into his pasta. "This is what you do in the week huh?"

"I spend a couple of hours standing up and talking, too."

"How many classes do you teach in the school year?"

"Two a semester, usually. One in the summer." 

He chewed a moment. "You like teaching?"

"I do. And I've been very lucky employment-wise. Academic positions can be hard to come by, and I've had two prestigious schools."

"The students I talk to always say how much they like Cornel." He snagged a hunk of garlic bread off the plate on the table. "I never liked school when I went."

"Maybe you didn't have a hot enough teacher."

"Well, I was ten when I stopped going so it would have been lost on me either way."

She put her papers down and stared at him. "Dickensian really _is_ the right word."

"In retrospect, we probably should have gone occasionally. It would have killed time."

"Where did you learn English?"

"Television. Tourists. Books. Wanda's always been good at languages, and she helped me. There was a small library in town. It was a good place to go in bad weather. And when were with Hydra it's what the guards all spoke."

"Makes sense. It's very organic sounding."

"Wanda's is better than mine. She even uses idioms." Mostly because she plucked them out of people's heads.

"I have to tell you, I love your accent."

He grinned widely. "That's high praise from a linguist."

"Well. It's not really a fondness that comes from my higher brain functions."

That earned her a marinara flavored kiss. "I knew _those_ parts liked my accent."

She caught ahold of his shirt. "Are you done eating yet?"

"Mmm. I certainly can be."

She took his plate and put it on the coffee table. "You taste like garlic and I still want you. That has to be some sort of milestone right there."

"You can blame it on the accent, if you want." Papers went flying everywhere as they shoved them out of the way and she tugged his shirt off. He really had no idea why she thought Weekday Her was boring.


	5. Chapter 5

It was good that Pietro liked Weekday Ora, as he suddenly found himself seeing her a lot, as Wanda sorted out whatever was going on with her and Zev. He really didn't want details. Not even when an entire pallet of pillows was delivered to their house.

"Like, I kind of want to ask - broad strokes only, of course - but on the other hand I feel like it might be one of those go mad from the revelation things." He was out having target practice with Clint and Bucky. He didn't think either of them were interested in Wanda's sex life but he was going to make conversation if it killed them.

"The women seem to be finding it interesting," Clint offered.

"Something about a tornado," Bucky said. "That's what I heard."

"She destroyed a bunch of pillows," Pietro said, lining up a shot. Bucky reached over to nudge his elbow up. "And got cookie dough on our ceiling."

"I heard about the cookie dough," Clint said.

He took the shot and Clint peered through his own scope to see if he'd hit. "At least she hasn't broken anymore windows. That was a bad day."

He'd missed. "Maybe we should just have you run the bullet over there," Bucky said.

"I question whether the team needs another sniper," Pietro muttered. It probably didn't, he suspected this was more Bucky and Clint bonding with him than real training. Still, giving each other shit was part of the game. And it was better than hand to hand training.

Clint lifted his head. "Hey, wait a minute. Maybe we are looking at this wrong. He _is_ the gun."

Pietro and Bucky both looked at him. "Huh?"

"You can catch bullets, right? If you're moving that fast. . . slender, sharp projectile. Perfectly symmetrical since you won't have spin. Sharpened arrow shaft would do. Stark would make something better. Let go as you run past, catch it on the other side."

He tilted his head, considering that. "It would take practice to get the timing down. But it had merit. You have a shaft I can try it on?"

"It's a paper target," Bucky said. "Dull will work."

Clint nodded, and carefully took apart one of his arrows. He handed the shaft to Pietro when he was done and he fiddled with it a moment, twirling it through his fingers to get the feel and balance for it. Then he came the other men a nod and went running for the target. It went through, but he was moving too fast to catch it. They considered that proof of concept, and after a couple of more tries, he could catch it reliably coming on on the other side.

He was tired and sweaty by the time the packed up to go back in, but rather pleased with himself. It was always nice to have a new skill to use on missions.

"You want to come back for a beer?" Clint asked.

Ah, the bonding call of the stoic sniper. "That would be great."

Once they were settled in and actually drinking, Bucky said, "You need a girl."

Pietro's brows went up. "Why?"

"You spent twenty minutes talking about your _sister's_ relationship," Clint answered instead. 

"Her relationship effects me pretty severely right now."

They both shrugged, in virtual unison. Some of the Avengers talked too much. Stark, for example. These two didn't talk enough. He was slowly learning to speak their language of grunts and head motions. He'd seen various combinations of Clint, Bucky, Natasha and Steve have entire conversations with body language.

He sipped his beer in silence a moment. "There is a woman I've seen a few times." Master of understatement, he was. "But I don't know if it's a thing."

"Well, there you go," Bucky said.

"Is she a groupie?" Clint asked.

"Sam says there are a lot of groupies," Bucky added. Pietro felt like sometimes the two of them hung out because they'd figured out if they talked in tandem it allowed them both to say less words, which was some sort of a life goal.

"She's not a groupie. Kind of the opposite, actually. She's not a big fan of the Avengers. Or, SHIELD, I guess." He drank his beer. "The two can be hard to separate."

"Does she know who you are?"

"Yeah. She googled me."

"And stuck around?" Clint shrugged. "Maybe she does like you."

"Oh, I think she likes me. She's just uninteresting in anything more than fuck buddies."

"Nat and I did that for a couple of years."

Pietro wasn't sure being compared to Clint and Nat: The Early Years was the most flattering thing on the planet. "Well, it gives me somewhere to go when Wanda is having Zev over."

Bucky chuckled. "Well, no wonder you're so interested in that, then."

"There is a certain yin yang quality to the two relationships."

"Invite her to your birthday party," Clint said. "She can see that we're nice people. That we're regular people. With kids and dogs and dorky theme aprons." 

He'd actually been considering that, in the category of friends with benefits being friends. He strongly suspected Ora would balk at the idea, but asking her seemed like the right thing to do. Especially if Clint was suggesting it as well. "We'll see," he said finally.

Clint nodded and handed him another beer. "So, we should talk to Stark about your projectile."

"Bring Stark a new toy to build? He'll hate that."

*

Ora had gotten kind of used to having Pietro over at random times, so much so that she just went about her business and folded him into whatever she was doing. Sometimes literally, as when he'd shown up on this particular night, she was doing laundry.

As he helped her fold her sheets, she thought about how she'd nearly forgotten how nice company was. Having someone in your her life to help her with things that needed another pair of arms. 

"My mother used to be able to fold the fitted ones," he said. "She taught Wanda how but I never got it."

"I have good closets here, I don't worry about space. When I lived in California my house was old and had terrible closet space, so I got very efficient. Never figured out how to make them look nice, though."

He gave her his cocky grin. "Old?"

"It was a craftsman. Lots of wood and shelves. Not a lot of closets." She looked at him. "Oh, this is where you make fun of how Americans thing stuff from the 19th century is old. Let me tell you, in California, 1920's is Old."

"It's not fun to mock when you cut me off at the pass."

She grinned at him. "I'm hip to your ways by now."

“Ah, the mystery is gone."

"The mystery was gone last week when you insisted you didn't care that I hadn't shaved my legs."

"That is another American oddity I mock. In Sokovia the hair just keeps the ladies warm in the winter."

She dug in the basket and began matching socks. "So you're saying I can stop?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

She put the socks down and stared at him. "Marry me."

There was a moment of almost panicked blinking, then he started laughing. "Maybe another time. I do have a serious question for you."

Ora went back to her sock rolling. "I don't do threesomes."

"Funny. We're having a party for our birthday. Wanda and I. Wondered if you wanted to come."

She stilled, and stared at the laundry basket for a moment. "They'll all be there, I assume?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "They are my friends."

"I know." She rubbed her face. "I know. And I'm sure they're great people, I just. . ." She didn't even know what words she was looking for. The logical part of her knew that blame for everything that happened should be squarely placed on Hydra. That millions of lives had been saved. Logic didn't always help her gut reactions.

"It's all right," he said, voice carefully light. He bent to scoop a pair of pants out of the laundry. "I can come see you afterwards."

She still felt like she ought to explain herself, but she had no idea how. "I just feel like I'd make it awkward. I don't have the best brain to mouth filter. I could accidentally ruin your party."

"I don't think anything short of homicidal AI ruins an Avenger party. But I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"You really want me asking someone if they ever contemplate the peasants they trample while storming the castle?"

"Depends on who you're asking and if it's getting recorded. Ask Tony and you'll get snark. Ask Steve and you'll get a conversation on the considerations of friendly fire in war that has no end."

"Stark publicly expressed regret for the Battle of New York and donated $6 billion to recovery efforts. Steve dumped a hundred thousand people's darkest secrets on the internet and just marched forward like God was on his side. Which. . . maybe he thinks he is. I don't know."

He didn't answer right away. "Tony's very good at big showy gestures, but he's far more likely to jump first and be blindsided by the consequences later. Steve. . . you've never seen Steve, because when he's on television he's always Captain America. I don't believe he didn't think about the people who would get hurt. I think he honestly didn't have another option. But that doesn't take your stuff offline or unfuck up your life. Any more than Stark's recovery efforts give my back my parents or put Sokovia back together." He shrugged. "I don't want to fight. You don't want to go then you don't want to go. That's that. I just thought having a burger with them and seeing them as people might help."

She traced the seam of the sock in her hand. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. Being angry's all I've got left."

Skirting the basket, he stepped closer and slid an arm around her. "I understand. I've been there." He pressed a kiss into her temple. "Don't sign up for questionable scientific testing, okay?"

Sighing, she hugged him. She was going to have to face them eventually. She knew that. Because this. . . this wasn't just sex. She didn't think so, anyway. Not anymore. "You'll come over after?"

"For birthday nookie? Of course."

She leaned up to kiss him. "Good." Now she just had to find him a present.

The day of the party he kept up a stream of text messages early on.

_We get two cakes because we are children who cannot agree on anything._

She smiled. Apparently she was going to get to participate in the party after all. _Flavors?_

_Mine is chocolate, of course. Wanda's is some fruit abomination that is more health food than dessert._

_I'm on your side._ She had noticed his fondness for chocolate, and was making her Abuella's chicken mole, which took so long she'd already started prep. She wanted to make sure she seeded the chiles early enough she'd really, really gotten her hands clean. Talk about stuff that could ruin her romantic endeavors.

_Nat is baking. From scratch. There is a pile of meat next the to grill that is frankly terrifying._

_Save room for dinner,_ she told him.

_Are you making me something special?_

_It's a surprise. My grandmother used to make it for my birthday._

_Well, then I can't wait to try it._

She grinned. She also had new lingerie, but she'd let him see that in person. _Go eat your cake, I have chiles to seed._

Her phone buzzed a couple of times as she was working on the chiles, but she didn't risk touching it. After she as done and had washed her hands multiple times she checked it.

_Something's come up. I need a raincheck on dinner._

_I'll call you later._

She stared at it for a full minute, then sent back. _What do you mean 'Something's come up'?_

He didn't answer that. Not that night and not any time the next day. She was torn between being worried, and being mad. Had something bad happened? Surely he'd have told her by now. Or maybe she wasn't high enough on his priority list. That was what they'd said this was, right? Sex and conversation? They weren't anything. She shouldn't care.

She really had no idea why she was crying. This wasn't supposed to be anything.

She still hadn't decided how to feel that night when someone started pounding on her door at eleven-thirty. When she finally got up after determining they would not be giving up, she found Pietro on the other side, in black battle gear, looking exhausted.

Ora stared at him, surprised and not sure what to say. Was she happy to see him? Was she mad at him? Where the hell had he been, anyway? Clearly some sort of Avengers thing, though he hadn't bothered to mention that to her. "What are you doing here?"

He looked slightly taken aback at the question. "I said I'd be in touch when I could."

"It's almost midnight on a Sunday night." Speaking of which, she didn't want to piss off her neighbors. She stepped back so he could come inside. "You could have called." Anytime in the past 36 hours, really.

"I left my phone at home," he said, slipping into the apartment and waiting for her to close the door. "We go dark on missions." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was on a mission."

"I can see that. So you guys just sometimes pack up and vanish without much of a word?"

He sighed. "You don't have clearance. I didn't know what, if anything, I could tell you. I could have asked Nat or Steve, maybe, but that would have just lead to a bunch of questions about who you were and why I wanted to tell you and I wasn't up for that."

It made sense, she supposed. Because they weren't anything. "What would you have told them if I'd gone yesterday, 'this is a random woman I grabbed off the street'?"

"I suppose I'd have asked you what you wanted to be introduced as. Sort of a moot point since you seem determined not to meet them."

She rubbed her eyes, feeling sad and exhausted and so many things. "Pietro. I have class in the morning. I don't want to argue right now."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just. . . wanted to see you."

"I have class in the morning. I'm tired and not in the mood. Have a shower and a good night's sleep and I'll call you tomorrow and be less. . ." she shrugged, not sure what the rest of that sentence was. Less angry. Less hurt. Or maybe just less transparent. She'd thought she was immune to things hurting by now, but apparently not.

An expression crossed his face she couldn't really read. "You're kicking me out?"

She breathed through her nose for a moment. "I was already asleep. I believe the _call_ portion of the booty call is usually recommended, especially at weird hours."

"That's not - I just wanted to see you. I didn't want to be home."

_Oh._ That required more nose breathing. "Zev's over."

"He was waiting for her. For the plane. When we got back."

"Ah." Now at least it makes sense. "Your phone is at home. You came here straight from the plane because that was going down." She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Under no circumstances would she cry. But shit, booty call was more flattering than 'motel'. "Okay. Well." _No. Crying._ She pointed at her bathroom door. "Shower. Couch." She had plenty of throw pillows and blankets on it. "I'm going to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"There was a bomb," he said quietly, stopping her in her tracks. "Wanda contained it but it was seconds from blowing up and it rattled me. All I could think about on the flight home was coming back and seeing you." He looked down. "Everyone else has someone waiting for them when they get home. I just. . . wished you were there waiting for me."

There went the not crying. She didn't know what to say, so she just went forward and put her arms around him. It took her a moment to get out, "I'm sorry."

His arms came up, crushing her to his chest. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."

She stroked his hair and whispered, "I would have waited for the plane."

"I'd like that," he said, voice muffled in her hair.

They held on to each other for a long time, and then she pulled back and looked up at him. "We've got some stuff we should probably talk about."

"That seems apparent, yes."

"But it's late. And you look even more tired than I am." She stroked his hair off his forehead. "Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll cancel my class tomorrow."

He leaned into her touch. "You're sure?"

"You look like you need me more."

That got the first hint of a smile. "Thank you."

She kissed him gently. "Go."

*

Pietro had showered at the hotel in Dubai after the mission. But it had been quick, efficient and he'd had to put his dirty uniform back on in the morning. Plus the long flight home. The hot water at Ora's apartment felt infinitely better on his back and sore legs. He scrubbed everything clean, dried off, then wrapped himself in a towel to see what he had by way of clothes.

He had _clothes_ here. They'd been casually and accidentally left, but she kept them out of convenience. She'd folded them and left them on the back of the toilet. It was enough he didn't have to put anything dirty back on. Her medicine cabinet had a couple of disposable razors and a spare tooth brush. What a farce they'd concocted for themselves about the nature of their relationship.

Clean, dressed, with his teeth brushed and his beard trimmed he felt worlds better than he had when he'd arrived. Still raw in places and remarkably tired despite the night at the hotel. But better. Rubbing a towel over his wet hair once more, he went out to find Ora.

She was in the kitchen, stirring something in a saucepan. "I'm making hot chocolate," she informed him.

He smiled, coming up behind her to lean his chin on her head. "It's a hot chocolate kind of day."

She put one of her arms over his where it wrapped around her waist. "I was going to make mole sauce so I had the chocolate chopped. Best I can do for birthday food at midnight."

"Aw, man. I love mole." He kissed her shoulder. "I'm sorry about the other day."

"It is your job. I should get used to it." She stopped stirring, and and asked quietly. "Shouldn't I?"

"You probably should," he confirmed. If they needed to have the conversation sideways he could do that. "Though if you get security clearance I can tell you when and where I'm going. And you can get on the notification list the other significant others are on."

He thought she might balk at 'significant other', but all she said was, "Do they give clearance to someone with no secrets?"

"I think that's probably preferable."

She was quiet a moment. "I was married. I'm divorced now, obviously. But it was very messy. He lost his job because of things he told me that became public in the SHIELD dump. Despite the fact that he had an affair, he got most of everything, and then he sued me for the rest. Also my brother ended up in jail, because he was doing some illegal things—again, in the SHEILD dump. I felt obligated to help pay for his lawyer. Didn't help, still in jail. But I do have a somewhat scary amount of debt, which may be a hindrance for security clearance. Just a warning."

This was not really the way he wanted to hear her story. But he was glad it was out now. "I think it's more about ties to known terrorist organizations. But I'll talk to Maria Hill and see what she thinks. She may be able to walk it through so it doesn't get tangled in red tape. Zev seemed to think the process was mostly painless." He paused. "Do you want help with your debt?"

"Going straight from Fuck Buddies to you paying my bills is a little fast for me." She tipped her head back to look up at him. "But thank you." 

"I could buy you expensive gifts you can pawn," he offered with a crooked grin.

"I've done enough pawning to last a lifetime, I think. I will keep nice stuff, thank you."

"Noted." He kissed her lightly. "How's the hot chocolate coming?"

"Just about done." she took the pan off the stove, and poured it into to mugs. He was surprised to find a bite of heat behind the sugar.

"Chiles?" he asked, sinking onto her couch next to her.

"Everything is better with chiles."

He sipped some more. "I like it."

"It reminds me of home. Of growing up and of happier times. I've been thinking lately I need to remember the good things." She smiled. "Suppose I owe you for that."

"It was a lesson it took me a long time to learn," he said. "That there are good things at the end of a bad road."

"I think you might be one of those good things."

He smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. "So are you."

She snuggled against him and they drank their chocolate. "Do you want to come to bed? It's been a long couple of days."

"I would love that," he told her, taking one last swig of his drink and setting it down. She's arranged the bed for two, though he knew when alone she slept in the middle. She had a tendency to hog it, but he didn't mind. She slid off her robe, surprising him that there was nothing under it.

He felt his brows go up. He hadn't been planning on asking for anything, just content to be near her and hold her. Remind himself he was safe and alive and someone cared for him. But there were a lot of ways to remind yourself of that. So he tugged his shirt up and off and reached for her, pulling her close for a deep kiss.

She ran her fingers along his spine and murmured, "Maybe I just like to sleep naked." Then she slid her hands under the waistband of his pants.

"Nah. You strike me as a flannel pants and faded t-shirt of an 80s band."

Her hands wandered, tracing his hipbones and the contours of his abs. "If you'd been here yesterday, there would have been lingerie."

He groaned. "I missed mole _and_ lingerie? Stupid fucking terrorists."

She kissed the underside of his jaw and whispered, "We have time."

"Yes. We do," he said. It sounded like a promise, even to his ears. He dipped his head and kissed her again, hands roaming her bare skin. She pushed his pants down and they backed towards the bed. He had the brief urge to pick her up, but he was pretty beat after the mission. They had time.

They tumbled down onto the bed and he dipped a hand down to find her already wet for him. He deepened the kiss, rolling onto his back and tugging her across his chest. She braced her hands on either side of his head. "Making me do all the work. I see how it is."

He gave her a little smack on the ass. "You like driving, _chica_.” 

"Yeah, I do." She straightened and reached for her nightstand drawer where she kept the condoms. "And it is sort of your birthday." She slid her body down his a ripped the wrapper with her teeth. He's heard a number of women who claimed they could put on on with their mouth. She was the only one he'd known who actually could.

Groaning at the feel of it, he sank a hand into her hair and tugged gently, urging her up. She let him pull her, placing random kisses on his skin as she went. She smiled at him when their eyes met, and kissed him thoroughly. "Hi."

He stroked her hair back from her face, feeling an almost painfully strong wave of affection for her. "Hello, gorgeous."

She bit her lip and swallowed, like maybe she could see it on his face. But that wasn't a bad thing. She kissed him again, more tenderness than heat it in. But in the middle of it she lifted up and took him inside her. He shuddered at the feel of it, cupping her waist in his hands, fingers digging into her skin. 

Realizing he'd closed his eyes, he forced them open to watch her move. She straightened and reached her arms over her head, stretching out her body for his view. Had he always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, or was that because his emotions were involved now. It didn't matter. She was his.

She kept us a slow, smooth rhythm for an excruciatingly long time. When his patience was near its limit, he slid a hand down and found her clit with his thumb. He stroked it in tight circles, just the way she liked. Her rhythm stuttered, and then she began matching the speed of his hand, faster and harder. She hit the point where she started mumbling things in languages he didn't understand, which was always just before she broke.

"That's it, honey," he murmured to he, arching his hip up to her as she rode him. She tipped her head back and her whole body shuddered, tightening around him in a familiar pattern. He moved with her, thrusting up hard a few times before joining her, body tightening in pleasure.

She tumbled down on his chest and he relaxed. There really wasn't anything quite as good for sore muscles as this. All sorts of things hurt less right now. He lifted a hand and rubbed her back in slow lazy circles. Pressing a kiss into her hair he closed his eyes, content to not move ever again.

"I'm glad you're home safe," she murmured.

"I'm glad I'm home with you."


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't until Ora's alarm woke her in the morning that she remembered she'd gotten distracted by the hot chocolate and never sent the email to cancel her morning class. She found Pietro surprisingly hard to shake awake. "I'm sorry," she said in response to the mumbling noise that seemed the best she was going to get. "I forgot about my class."

He looped an arm around her waist. "Thought you were canceling?"

"I forgot to cancel. People will be on their way. Papers are due today and I didn't set up a drop off. So I have to go get them."

There was more grumbling but he kissed her shoulder and released her. "I'll head home."

"Will you come back?"

He lifted his head enough to smile at her. "After a few more hours of sleep and a check in with the team, yes."

"If you came back for dinner I might consider making the mole."

"I'll be waiting on your stoop like an obedient puppy."

She leaned over to kiss him. "Lay about as long as you like. Lock the door behind you when you go."

"Yes, dear."

The endearment warmed her. They still needed to talk about what they were, but she was pretty sure this was officially a relationship. She hadn't wanted one, but that it had happened anyway made her remarkably happy. "I'll see you tonight."

He caught her hand and kissed her palm. "I'll bring you dessert."

She laughed. "I'm not saying the first thing that popped into my head in interest of getting out the door."

"Good, or I might not let you go." He reached out and gave her a smack on the ass. "Go. Have a good day."

She collected papers and dismissed her class early. They she went out to buy more chocolate and a good bottle of wine. She was in a tremendously good mood, the sort she hadn't felt in a while. He made her happy. For a while there she'd thought she'd forgotten how.

He sent her a text message complaining about walking on on Wanda and Zev fooling around in their kitchen. He'd seen boob and was traumatized. He told her he needed eye bleach. 

_How about a palette cleanser?_

_I was thinking of looking up cute baby animal videos. Or would that cause some sort of unfortunate association?_

_Stand by,_ she replied. She went into the bedroom and put on her fancy new bra she'd bought. There were already pictures of her on the internet from the SHIELD file. She'd liked to send them to her ex, and all her text messages and emails were in the file. But Pietro wouldn't look for them. And if they were going to have a relationship, she was going to try not to color it with shades of the past. So she took a picture of herself in her lingerie and sent it to him.

There was a remarkably long pause, then, _Would you like jewelry and flowers with your cake?_

_Just you._

_I'll count the minutes, then. And come with bells on and any other silly American sayings._

Dinner was in the oven when he showed up that evening, holding a tupperware cake holder. "What about the bells?" she asked. "I was promised bells."

He frowned at her, then his face split into a grin. He handed her the tupperware then sprinted off in a blur. For fun, she counted in her head while he was gone. At thirty seven he reappeared and jangled a cat collar with a bell on it at her.

She laughed. "What. . . where did you get that?"

"Pet store on Wilbur Ave." Wilbur was a good ten blocks away.

"You are the first person to ever steal me a cat collar."

He looked offended. "I paid for it. That's why it took so long."

Ora kissed him. "I will reward you with dinner."

"Thank you." He cupped the back of her head, lengthening the kiss. There was a remarkable amount of emotion in that kiss. Her arms wound around his neck and she leaned into him. She was content to kiss until the oven beeped.

"You are the only thing that could make me considered giving up mole twice," Pietro murmured as he lifted his head. 

She ruffled his hair, and traced her fingertips over his brow. "I'll still be here after dinner."

"That's true. And then you will taste of mole."

"Go sit at the table and I will serve you the meal I have been slaving over all day."

"Yes, dear." He gave her a little peck before going to follow orders. 

She plated the chicken and the rice and brought it out to where he was opening up the bottle of wine. "This is kind of date-like," she commented.

"I was thinking the same thing. Not that I'm an expert." He poured them both wine. "Next time, I could take you out to dinner."

"That would probably _definitely_ be a date."

He glanced at her. "Is that okay?"

"Yes." She sat, and ate a bite of the chicken, which she already knew to be perfect. "We skipped the talking last night."

"So we did. Want to give it a try now?"

"Eat some of your food first. I want to be in a better negotiating position."

He arched a brow but took a bite, making a little hum-groan of appreciation before shoving in two more.

She watched him, pleased. The faster he ate, the more he enjoyed whatever he was eating. "I feel like calling this or any restaurant dinner we might have our first date disingenuous."

It took a moment for him to answer as he had a great deal of chewing to do. Finally he took a big drink of his wine and said, "This has been something for a while, yes." He paused. "I told Wanda about you. She realized I had been seeing the same woman and that you. . . mattered to me."

That made her smile. "You matter to me, too."

He nodded sharply, then admitted, "I've never actually dated anyone before."

"It's pretty indistinguishable with what we've been doing. In retrospect, the time you came over to feed me and rub my back during my period was probably the last nail in the coffin of casualness."

"So I'm doing it right, then?" he asked with his cocky grin.

She pointed at him with her fork. "Is there anybody else?"

His brows went up and he looked vaguely offended. "No, of course not."

"Then yes, you are doing it right."

"I assume I'm it for you, as well?"

"Yes. You absolutely are."

He nodded again. "Then we're on the same page."

She ate her rice for a moment, and took a swig of wine. "I suppose I'm going to need to meet your people."

If it surprised him he hid it in eating. "We can start slow. Maybe just Wanda."

"I would like to meet Wanda. She not part of. . .all that."

"And she is very eager to meet you." He paused, considering. "You might like Darcy and Cal, too. They're very normal. Though he was part of SHIELD. Got trapped under the Trisk when it came down."

"It makes me uncomfortable," she said honestly. "But you make me happy, so. . ." she shrugged. "I'll work through it."

He nodded and turned to his food again, finishing off the chicken and scooping up huge forkfuls of rice. She was waiting for him to start using the back of a finger to get the last grains when he said, "I thought watching Stark die or ruining his life would make me feel better. Make up for my parents dying and what Wanda and I went through. A life for a life, right? It's in the Bible. But it made everything worse and almost caused the destruction of the human race." He slugged back some wine. "What did help was seeing him on three hours of sleep, with baby snot and vomit on his shirt, trying desperately to settle his stomach flu riddled daughter." He gave her his cocky grin. "Something to be said for humanizing your demons."

"I can't even figure out who I'm really bothered by. Rogers and Romanov for dumping the data? Everybody who worked for SHIELD? Or just somebody who would have been in a position to know something about the original data collecting?" 

Pietro shook his head. "I don't know how SHIELD operated then. Well, I have some idea, but the people I spend my time with weren't in on most of it. I know that Steve is very, very determined not to run things the way they did. Watching someone the way they did with you wouldn't happen under his watch."

"I suppose mostly I just have some things I need to let go of."

"I know it's hard," he said, sympathetically. "We can go at your pace. Wanda is very non threatening."

She reached across the table and slid her hand into his. "I want to meet her. I know she's a big part of you."

"She is." He paused. "There are things. . . we might need to revisit the security clearance thing. Some of her powers are classified."

"I'm willing to do that," she said. "Clearance."

His grin was brilliant and not at all cocky, but kind of boyish. "I can give Maria your email?"

Maria Hill was pretty high on Ora's list of people she din't want to speak to, but if that's how it went, so be it. "Okay."

With a blur he was by her chair and hugging her, without her really realizing he'd lifted her out of it. "Thank you," he muttered into her hair.

Her arms tightened, and she pressed her face into his neck. "You're welcome."

"The mole was delicious. I should have birthdays more often."

"It's good for other special occasions, too." She liked that he hadn't let her go, and so she snuggled against him.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, fingers idly picking out little tangles. "Like what?"

"Aren't there like a ton of Jewish holidays in the fall? Plus you can muster up a Catholic saint feast day pretty much any time. All the mole you want, really." 

"I have high hopes for this relationship. We think alike."

She sighed happily. "You know, I'm still wearing that lingerie."

He shifted to kiss her throat. "Oh, really?"

"Mmmhmm. Would you like to see it in person?"

"I would be very interested in that," he told her, accent gone thick, voice deep.

She turned her face and nibbled his ear. "You have to teach me your language."

"Ah yes. I did promise, didn't I?"

His hands slid under her shirt and she returned the favor. "You talk to me in it when we're naked. It turns me on, but now the only Sokovian words I know are mostly not useful in public."

He laughed, rumbling. "On our next date I'll speak to you only in Sokovian. How about that?"

"I can teach you to talk dirty in other languages, too."

He was slowly dancing her out of the kitchen. "We can have our own sex language."

"I'm game," she told him on their way back to the bedroom. "We'll probably have to practice a lot."

"Practice makes perfect, yes? We'll be masters at it."

*

It took Pietro two more days mention the subject to Wanda. He didn't know why he felt weirdly nervous. "About the girl I told you about," he said at breakfast.

She put her fork down and looked at him. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat a couple of times, then fidgeted with his coffee mug. Wanda waited patiently. "She'd like to meet you," he finally blurted out.

Wanda arched a brow. "This not-serious woman you didn't have a relationship with."

Of course she wasn't going to make this easy on him. He scowled. "We've progressed beyond that. We talked."

"Since Monday?"

"I'm very efficient. So. Meeting her?"

She grinned widely. "I have never been more excited about anything in my life."

"Good. Lunch tomorrow? You could bring Zev if he's free. Something casual near campus." He hesitated. "She's not got clearance yet, so limit the weird."

"Zev and I are sufficiently weird just on our own without telepathy."

He blew out a breath. "Good. That's good, then."

She watched him very knowingly. "You're nervous," she said quietly.

There was no point in lying to her. "A little, yeah. First girlfriend, and all."

"You've had a lot of women," she commented.

"Yes. But not. . . like this."

He could see Wanda considering this. "Does she care about you?"

"I think so, yes. Though it took us time to admit it."

She got up to take the dishes to the sink, perhaps to give his discomfort some space. "If she cares about you, then I will like her."

Wanda had a way of boiling things down and making them seem very simple. "She doesn't like SHIELD. And it sort of bleeds over into the others. But she knows you're important to me. I think she'll like you, too." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "God, you'll probably get along too well. This is a horrible idea."

"We'll conspire against you," she agreed.

"Probably nag me to go to the doctor and eat vegetables."

"Some company would be nice."

"Yes, you need more women to cluck with. I can see your bereft."

She came back to the table and sat. "None of them are quite as invested in nagging you, though."

Violet nagged him a little, in her quiet, Team Mom sort of way. "Clint and Bucky beat me up pretty well. If that helps."

She came over to kiss his forehead. "I'm happy for you."

He slung an arm around her and hugged her to his side. "Thank you, little sister."

Ora was very excited when Pietro called to tell her lunch was on the books. "I didn't expect this much enthusiasm," he admitted.

"I want to meet your sister. I never had reservations about her."

"Sounds like Zev and his interpreter will be coming, too. She's excited at the possibility of conspiring with you."

"I cannot wait."

The next day he ran into town a little early, hoping to burn off some nervous energy. He ran to the university and checked parking lots until he found Ora's car, assuming she would at least come by to drop off her stuff before going to lunch.

She grinned when she saw him. "Excited, eh?"

"Seemed polite to escort you. Chivalry not being dead and such."

"You are a gentleman," she said, leaning in for a kiss.

He slipped his arms around her, rocking her a little with the kiss. "You want to drive? Walk? Run?"

"You going to carry me?"

"We'll get there quicker."

"Sounds like fun."

She'd never let him run her around before. Or, more precisely, they'd never had opportunity or need. He bent and scooped her up in his arms. "Hold on," he warned, then went running for the restaurant they were supposed to meet the others at.

The world went by at a blur, and she tucked herself against his chest against the wind. And then suddenly, they were there. All she could do was breathe, "Wow."

"You all right?" he asked, setting her down.

"It would probably be in poor taste to have sex in the restaurant bathroom, wouldn't it?"

"I'm told that's illegal. Though I could run you home after lunch and we could get inventive."

She kissed him. "You're on."

He tucked her into his side as they walked into the cafe. He spotted Wanda, Zev, and Chuck at a table near the back and waved, steering Ora towards them. "You're early," he said, bending to kiss Wanda's cheek.

"Zev is early. I'm along for the ride."

He shook Zev's hand and waved at Chuck, then slid his arm around Ora again. "Everyone, this is Ora. Ora this is Wanda, Zev and Chuck."

"It's really nice to meet you," she said. She also signed it, which was new.

Zev looked delighted. Wanda stood to shake her hand. "You too. Please sit."

"I've been so looking forward to meeting you," she said.

"I will try not to turn it into an interrogation. But getting information out of my brother is like pulling teeth." Wanda tossed him a bratty grin and he resisted sticking his tongue out. She was very good at putting people at ease.

"That's okay," Ora said. "I like to talk."

And for the next half hour or so, the two of them dominated the conversation, sharing stories and personal information and laughing. He was almost entirely superfluous. Zev gave him a knowing, sympathetic grin.

He was impressed she'd taught herself ASL. He knew she was good with languages, but she hadn't exactly had a lot of time.

Wanda was in the middle of a vaguely embarrassing story involving him shoplifting her some feminine products when they were thirteen because she was too embarrassed to do so herself. In an effort to tune her out, he turned to Zev again. "You want to go get a beer and do manly things or something?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they'll still be here clucking in the morning."

"I knew this was going to end poorly for me."

"I think I'm only here to entertain you."

"It was thoughtful of her to think of me. How's work?" He and Zev tended to pass in the night, or, well, morning. And usually their chatting was done through a half awake Wanda. But he generally liked his sister's boyfriend, especially how happy he made her.

"Good. Doc's a slave driver. You strangled Barton yet?" 

"It's been a close call. We're working on endurance. I'm a sprinter not a marathon runner, you know?"

"And he's making you run marathons?"

"While carrying things." He shrugged. "I prefer shooting practice, but I don't get to pick."

"Training of all kinds sort of sucks. Hopefully the result makes it worth it. I hope so, at least. I'm getting tired of school."

He needed to hang out with Zev more, he decided. Maybe Ora could teach him ASL in return for the Sokovian. "You going to be a doctor-doctor? Or research?"

"Research. If I wanted to practice, regular med school would have been sufficient."

"I don't know much about higher learning." Wanda probably understood all the ins and outs of it, at least where Zev and doctorates were concerned.

Zev smiled. "If I had to run a marathon I think they'd need to call an ambulance."

He had to laugh. "You could make Wanda float you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Wanda's voice cut through his conversation. "You should come over for dinner. I've been researching some of the food Pietro and I grew up with."

He turned swiftly to gauge Ora's reaction. She glanced at him with alarm in her eyes, but quickly swallowed it and smiled. Wanda wouldn't miss it, though. "That sounds nice."

_Avengers bad,_ he reminded his sister.

She sent him a little pulse of apology. "I'm sure you'll be busy with school starting up properly. No need to plan anything now. Sounds like you'll be putting up with my brother for a little while longer."

Ora's smile turned warm and genuine, and she looked at him. "So it seems."

He reached out and took her hand, kissing the back. "You'd better."

Wanda's thoughts drifted into his head. _She cares about you. I like her. Also, the look on your face right now is ridiculous._

_Shut up. I've been putting up with you and Zev for weeks._

_I do not make that face._

_Yes, you do. I don't even know what face I'm making, but I can assure you, you make it._

Zev had apparently picked up that they were conversing, and started talking to Ora on his own. Something about people they knew at Cornell. Everyone getting along made him inordinately happy. She liked Wanda. That was what mattered.

They wrapped up so Zev could go back to work and Wanda could do her afternoon training. She hugged Ora tightly on the sidewalk. "It was so nice to meet you," she told her. "I'm glad Pietro met you."

Ora beamed. "Me too."

"We'll see each other soon," Wanda promised, then went on her toes to kiss his cheek. "She's too good for you," she teased.

"Everyone is."

She tucked her arm through Zev's and headed down the street with him, turning back to wave before they turned the corner. Ora looked up at him. "That was fun."

"It was. You two hit it off."

"I like her. And it's kind of fun not to be a hermit."

He put his arm around her, squeezing into his side. "Thank you for meeting them."

"Now what was that about running me home?"

Without a word, he scooped her up. "Ready?"

"Just don't exhaust yourself. I have use for you when we get there."

He snorted. "This is nothing. I run marathons, you know." He hefted her a little higher and took off running.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks later, Ora was making chicken mole again when her phone chimed with a text from Pietro. _That dish may be cursed._

They'd agreed on a code so he wouldn't just vanish, after the last time. _Business trip?_

_Yep. Urgent but probably not dangerous. Might be a couple days, though._

_So you're saying I'm going to get to eat this all myself?_ Because she was cooking "him" portions, she actually probably couldn't finish it if she had to for every meal.

_You could save a bit for your crime fighting boyfriend. I'm just saying._

_I will take that under consideration. Stay safe._

_Thanks._ There was a long pause. He was probably deciding what, if anything to say. _I'll be in touch._

_I'll be here,_ she replied.

Ora worried about him, when he was in the field. More so now than when they'd been pretending they were just sex. Now that she actually let herself feel things, if anything happened to him. . .

She lasted a full 48 hours before she couldn't take it anymore, and pulled out her laptop. There could not possibly be more than one Zev Taschengregger in the Cornell directory.

He had email and a cell phone listed. After a little more inner debate she sent a text. _Hi. this is Ora, Pietro's girlfriend. I'm slowly losing my mind._

The response came less than ten minutes later. _I sympathize. They went dark early yesterday and we haven't gotten an update. Are you on Sharon's list?_

_I don't have any clearance, so I'm not on anyone's list._

_Ah, well. Are you in the process, she might let you sneak by? Otherwise I can let you know what I know._

_I filled out the paperwork, but it's complicated._ She stared at the phone for a long moment. _Last time he said he wished I was there when he landed._

_If you want to stand on the Wife Line I'm really going to have to involve someone who lives here. Okay if I give Sharon your number?_

She wondered what Wanda had told him about her. Enough, it seemed. Sharon Rogers was seven months pregnant and as far as Ora could tell a very nice person. All of them probably were. She just needed to man up, here. _Yes._

He didn't reply, her phone just rang a few minutes later, with a blocked number. When she answered a pleasant- sounding woman said, "Hi, Ora? This is Sharon Rogers, Zev said you were hoping to meet the plane when it came in?"

She cleared her throat nervously. _Christ, woman, you have Ph.D._ "I. . . yes. If that would be all right."

"Sure! Maria said someone is being obnoxious with the clearance but as far as she's concerned you're good to go. And if Maria okays you, you can probably get into Fort Knox. I'll call the front gate and add you to the approved guest list. Is this a good number to send updates to?"

"Yes, thank you, I'd really appreciate that."

"Okay. We get notification of ETA when they take off, so you'll have several hours notice. I assume you know how to get here." The campus was pretty huge and well marked. "When you go through the main gate head right, towards the woods. You'll drive so long you'll think you're in Canada, but eventually you'll see the houses. There's a parking lot just before you reach the circle. Park there and give me a head's up. I'll send someone to meet you. Probably Darcy Lewis, you don't want to wait for me to waddle my way out to you."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience."

"No, no. Not at all. I'll admit, we've all been curious to meet you."

She felt like she was jumping off a cliff. "I could come a little early. . ." she ventured.

There was a slight pause. She wondered if Sharon needed a moment to contain her glee. "That's totally up to you. It'll be me, Pepper, Darcy, Violet and Jane. Oh, and Zev and Chuck."

"I'll be there," she said. "As long as you guys don't mind."

"Not at all. We love new people."

She hung up the phone and stared at it. God, what had she gotten herself into?

Worrying about meeting the women distracted her from worrying about Pietro. A text came late that evening from Sharon. _They're done, minor injuries but nothing serious. ETA is 11am tomorrow morning. Violet's planning on making breakfast for everyone, feel free to come any time after nine._

She canceled her morning class, and was embarrassed how poorly she slept. More nervous than she'd been at her wedding, she drove into Avengers HQ at 9:15.

The guard checked her ID and waved her in with a smile and she took the right fork as instructed. It was an almost pleasant drive through green fields and trees, until she saw the cluster of houses. She parked and sent Sharon a text and a few minutes later a curvy brunette woman sauntered down the drive and waved.

Ora got out of the car. "Hi," she called. "Are you Darcy?"

"I am. Unofficial welcoming committee and official Avenger herder." She stuck out a hand. "Nice to meetcha."

"Ora Martinez," she replied. "Thanks for letting me come."

"Not a problem. We are a friendly and welcoming bunch. C'mon, Violet's making French toast and if we're late Sharon will be drinking the syrup in shots."

She followed Darcy up to big brick Federal. It was a pretty house. The whole neighborhood was pretty, really. It looked like a nice place to live.

They could hear laughter and animated talking as soon as they stepped inside. Darcy gave her a reassuring smile and led her to the back left portion of the house, to a sunny kitchen with a large eating area, full of people. And then everybody stopped to look at her. She knew Zev and Chuck, and had seen pictures of Jane Foster. Everybody knew who Pepper Potts was, and the one pregnant woman was clearly Sharon. The tiny blonde then had to be Violet. There were two children at the table, and two toddlers and a baby in high chairs. "Hi," she said.

Violet grinned widely. "Hello. Come on in, find a seat. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? OJ?"

"Coffee would be amazing."

"Come here and tell me how you like it," she said, moving to one end of the counter while conversation picked back up.

She slid over to Violet, glad everyone wasn't staring at her anymore. "Just sugar, please."

The blonde poured her a mug, left a bit of room, then slid it and a sugar bowl over. "Help yourself. Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes. Are you hungry?"

"I am. I didn't eat much. It's been a weird couple of days."

"You get used to it," she said. "In a way. The worry doesn't stop, but you compartmentalize better. Having other people who understand helps."

"I was nervous. I have some. . . history with SHIELD."

Violet nodded sympathetically. "Wanda told us the cliff notes. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that."

"Apparently worry has now overtaken fear." 

She smiled. "You'll get to know your emotional capabilities really well, doing this." Violet patted her arm. "Come sit."

"Interrogation time?"

"No, we'll be nice. Unless baby talk drives you crazy, in which case I apologize in advance."

"I like babies." 

"Well, you'll fit right in, then." She steered Ora over to the island where someone had cleared her a stool.

"You'll get to go to the secret girl parties," Zev commented. "I'm only allowed in the Wives Club for mission waits."

"The secret girl parties are where the action is," Darcy confirmed. "With the drinking and the sex talk."

Ora laughed. "Wow, that _does_ sound like my kind of party."

"Cards Against Humanity gets whipped out a lot, too," Violet added, bringing a platter of French toast to the island.

"I want in on that," Zev said. "Chuck doesn't."

Darcy leaned back to squint at him thoughtfully. "I bet you'd do good ones. You have the look about you."

"I'd dispute it, but I'm pretty sure I do have a look about me that says I have a bawdy mind. Since I, you know, do."

The ladies laughed as they started serving themselves french toast and bacon from the second platter that had arrived. Ora founds herself with a plate piled high with both as butter, jam and syrup were also passed around.

It was very much comfort food, and she dug in, trying to remember the last time she'd had homemade french toast. Pietro kept muttering about making it, she should let him. Conversation ebbed and flowed around her. They talked about Violet's kids, school starting soon and Sharon's latest doctor's appointment. It was very normal and low-key.

Violet had just put on a new pot of coffee when Sharon's phone buzzed and she picked it up. "Jet's almost here. We should probably mobilize."

"Thank you," she said. "For inviting me." It had been so long since she'd had any kind of friends.

Sharon smiled brilliantly. "You're always welcome."

*

Everything on Pietro ached. He didn't care how much sex his sister was having tonight, he was going home, taking a shower and sleeping in his own bed. After checking in with Ora, of course. He didn't want to get in trouble again

Amanda came by to check the wound on his arm. "You want any pain killers?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Merely a flesh wound."

She clucked her tongue. "You always say that."

"Well, not that one time."

"You were unconscious." 

Clint called back to order them to sit for landing. Amanda shook her head and went to take her seat, and Wanda dropped down beside him. "You got pretty beat up."

"I should have dodged left instead of right, yeah?" He grinned. "You think Ora will like my scars?"

"All chicks dig scars," Natasha said from the front. Ears like a cat, that one had.

"I didn't say anything," Clint said from beside her.

Wanda shook her head. "I think Ora will fuss over you."

"Maybe I should go over there." He couldn't run. Even driving sounded exhausting. "Maybe tomorrow."

Wanda patted his hand. "That's probably a good idea."

Being fussed over sounded rather nice actually. The engines hummed differently as they slowed in preparation to land. When Clint gave them the okay to get up, he took his time, moving slowly down the ramp. The rest of them had all filed off, eager to see their loved ones. Now that Zev met the plane he was starting to find return trips a little less fun. Then he heard Wanda yell, "You really should get your ass out here."

He groaned and attempted to hustle, limping a little. There was a snarky comment about not needing to see her necking with Zev on his tongue, which promptly died when he saw Ora standing on the Wife Line with the rest of them. She was fidgeting, twisting her hands together nervously. Her eyes swept over him, taking in the bandage and the limp, and she looked concerned. "I'm sorry," she started when he reached her. "I wasn't sure—"

Catching her at the back of her neck, he yanked her close and kissed her. When she melted into him, he wrapped his other arm around her and dipped her properly. He could hear people around them applauding. Someone whistled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he just did not give a shit about the rest of them.

Eventually, he straightened, bringing her with him. "I'm very, _very_ glad to see you," he said softly.

"You said you wished I'd been here last time, so. . " She shrugged. "And I was worried."

He grinned. "I'm a little banged up, but all right. Don't think I have it in me to run you home right now, though."

A frown creased her brow. "Do you want me to go?"

"No. I want you to stay with me."

She nodded, and wrapped her arms around him to bury her face in his chest. He couldn't believe she was here. That she'd come onto the base, apparently met the other women, and was now willing to stay the night. He rocked her a little, rubbing her back gently in little circles.

"Come on," he said eventually. "I desperately need a shower and nap. Looks like Wanda's holding a cart for us."

The rest of them had all gone their own ways, which he was grateful for. Now was not the time for introductions. She tucked herself against his side as they went to the cart. Wanda, bless her, didn't say a word, just nodded and grinned, slipping into the car next to Zev and waiting for him and Ora to tuck into the back before telling FRIDAY to take them home.

Once there, Wanda and Zev made themselves immediately scarce, heading inside ahead of them. He tucked an arm around Ora. "I can't believe you're here."

"I thought maybe you'd need me."

"I do," he told her. "I absolutely do." They went up the steps and he didn't feel compelled to hide the limp. She opened the front door for him.

"Bedroom?"

He nodded. "Upstairs. First door." He had an attached bath - he and Wanda had agreed sharing would be a bad idea.

Ora opened it, and then cast a critical eye over him. "You have epsom salts somewhere in this house?"

"Wanda probably does. She has all manner of bath things." He paused and listened for her, then reached out mentally as best he could, but didn't find her. "She's up in the attic with Zev, it's safe to check her room."

"Got it." She went into the bathroom, and the taps in the tub—which he had never used—came on. She pointed at him as she passed him on her way back out to go find the salts. "Strip."

Ora's version of fussing was remarkably taciturn. Still, he obeyed, easing out of his gear. When she returned, he appreciated the once over she gave him wasn't entirely clinical. Into the bathroom with the bag of epsom salts she went, and a moment later called, "Come on, Roadrunner."

He limped to the door and said, "Beep beep," before climbing into the tub. Groaning at the feel of the hot water, he tipped his head back. "Don't call me that in front of the men. Steve's been dying to find me a call sign."

She sat on the floor beside the tub, and propped her arms on it. "You may call me Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius."

"I just might," he told her, letting his eyes close.

She ruffled his hair. "We could call you Mercury, after the Roman god. Get you shoes with little wings on them."

"Mmm. Like the stuff in thermometers?"

"That too. It's a liquid metal. People used to call it quicksilver." The warm water and the sound of her voice was soothing his aches away. "My name means gold."

He chuckled. "Gold and quicksilver. I like it."

She kissed his arm, right over the bandage. No one had kissed his booboos, so to speak, since he was a little boy. "Shall I leave you to enjoy your bath?"

He reached over and took her hand, squeezing lightly. "I like the company."

"Okay," she said with a smile. She was quiet a bit, then. "I had brunch with the ladies."

Brow hiking, he studied her. "How did that go?"

"They're all really nice. Pepper Potts wants to take me to the city and buy me lingerie, which was a pretty surreal conversation. They told me this was some sort of initiation thing. La Perla and drinking."

"Ah, yes. It's their hazing ritual. I heartily approve."

"You're lucky I like such things."

"If you didn't they'd find something else. I think Violet ended up with very practical robe or something."

"I am going to get the smuttiest lingerie I can find."

"And I am going to reward you for that."

She sighed, stroking his arm. "Assuming my clearance ever comes through, of course."

He leaned over to kiss her temple. "It's not done yet? But they let you come on base?"

"I called Zev, he had Sharon call me. She said there was some government hold up, but close enough for now." She trailed her fingers in the water. "My past is messy. I wonder if they won't clear me, and nobody wants to tell you."

"Well, if they let you here I suppose it's a moot point." He stretched under the water, wiggling his toes. It was getting colder. "We make a show of government oversight but we are our own entity when it becomes inconvenient."

"The girls were careful not to tell me what you were up to. So close enough only goes so far." She looked over at him. "What happens if they say no?"

He lifted a shoulder. "We do what we've been doing. I'll have to be vague about missions."

"Just when I thought this damn thing was done fucking up my life. . ."

Reaching out, he stroked her hair. "We'll figure it out." He sighed. "My bath has grown cold. Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?"

"Yes." She pulled herself up, and then reached for a bath towel and shook it out, picking up the ends to hold it open for him. He stood with a little groan and stepped out of the tub, letting her wrap the towel around him. He leaned on her, wiggling an arm free to hold her. She hugged him. "You make me happy. And for a while I really thought I'd forgotten how."

"I'm glad," he told her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I want you to be happy."

She snuggled a little closer. "Likewise."

He guided her through the door to his bedroom. Releasing her long enough to swiftly dry off, he then scooped her up and set her on the bed before curling up with her. She pulled the blankets up around them. "You look like you need a nap," she murmured.''

"Mmm, I do. But perhaps later I can ravish you."

She rubbed his back. "I look forward to that."

He hummed quietly in pleasure at the touch. "I'm really glad you're here," he mumbled.

Ora made a matching noise, and continued the gentle massage. It had been such a long time since someone had taken care of him without needing anything for themselves. So long he couldn't even really remember it. "I'll be here as long as you want me," she whispered.

That was the last thing he remembered before drifting to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Naps weren't usually Ora's thing, but she'd slept so poorly the last couple days that she crashed as hard as he did, and was surprised to wake up a couple of hours later. They had rolled and shifted around in their sleep so that he was sprawled half across her, face buried in her hair. He stirred when she woke and she felt him smile. "Hello."

She bent her head to kiss the arm slung over her collarbone. "Hello, yourself."

He shifted and lifted his his head, kissing her mouth deeply. She turned, rolling into him and wrapping her arms around him. He was safe and he was hers and it was all right now.

One hand wandered under her shirt, stroking the skin of her back as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to a different angle. She lifted her arms to let him pull it over her head. There was no fancy lingerie today, just what she'd thrown on in the throes of her nerves that morning. He didn't seem to notice, and really just wanted the bra out of his way.

He tossed it somewhere over his shoulder and ducked his head to kiss her breasts, taking one nipple between his teeth and tugging. He'd slept naked after his bath. If he owned pajamas she'd yet to see them. She wasn't complaining. After all the naked time earlier, she'd been kind of turned on when they fell asleep. Now she was happy she could let her hands wander all she wished. Though first she shoved her shorts and underwear down so she could be just as naked. He made a little noise of appreciation, one hand sliding down to cup her blatantly, fingers sliding against her sex, drawing out moisture.

She tilted her head back and moaned. She'd had ideas about slow, intimate reunion sex. But maybe reunion sex wasn't ever slow. Maybe they were just like this. Like firecrackers. "God," she breathed. "Fuck me."

Groaning even as he grinned, he rolled her beneath him and thrust, entering her in one smooth motion. She gasped at the sudden invasion, wrapping her legs around him and lifting up to meet him. It was hard and fast and she clawed his back it felt so good. He dropped hot, open mouthed kisses all over her face, shifting her hips up to slide deeper. When he had her where he wanted her he increased his pace, sliding his hand around to stroke her clit. She couldn't swallow the sounds she was making, completely overwhelmed by what she felt. "Please," she begged him, though she had no idea what language was actually coming out of her mouth. He seemed to understand, though, and then it was faster still. She bit his shoulder to keep the scream in when she came.

He followed her an instant later, driving into her completely as he came. Her limbs were liquid, and she stroked his back as she floated in it. That had felt good. Maybe better than ever before. Her emotions were far more tangled up in this than she'd wanted to admit. And something about being half asleep had them very close to the surface. He slumped against her limply, mumbling something in Sokovian she didn't quite catch.

She enjoyed her bliss, regretting that someone was going to have to move to deal with the condom.

_Oh._ She winced. 

Pietro lifted his head, frowning. "I hurt you?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. But we did. . . forget something."

His brow furrowed in confusion a moment, then his eyes widened almost comically. "Oh shit. I'm sorry."

She leaned up to kiss him lightly. "I did ask for it, didn't I?"

"I recall you requesting it rather clearly, yes."

"It's all right. An accident isn't very likely." She watched him swallow, and added, "And I would handle it if it did happen."

He was quiet a moment, as if processing what she'd said. Then he bent and kissed her lightly. "I would help and support however you wanted."

What she'd actually want probably didn't bear thinking about. "I just. . . I know famous men have that problem. I didn't want you to think I was one of those women."

He chuckled and kissed her again. "You're not like any other woman."

"I hope that's a compliment."

"Absolutely."

She studied him. "It's probably past time I go get some less intrusive birth control."

"I agree. Apparently, we're not mature enough for condoms anymore."

That made her laugh, and she had the crazy urge to tell him she loved him. It would probably scare him. It was too much for whatever they were. But there it was. Another thing she'd been so very certain she'd never feel again. "Well, good. 'Cause I'd really like to do it in your tub."

He grinned widely. "I would definitely be up for that." He tugged her close to kiss her. "Maybe after I've eaten."

"There's chicken mole in your fridge."

That got her a groan and some nibbling on her shoulder. "You're a goddess."

"I am. You should worship me."

"I absolutely will." His stomach growled audibly. "After I eat your mole to remind me why."

She smacked his ass the way he liked to smack hers. Of course, hers jiggled and his you could bounce the proverbial quarter off of. "Get up, then. And put some pants on so you don't scare your sister."

"Serve her right if I did," he muttered, rolling out of bed to go rummage in drawers.

"Still mad about the boob incident, eh?"

"Always and forever." He stepped into some jeans, yanking them on. She'd always assumed she got that particular pair on with a paint brush.

"I like that you dress like a European man," she informed him.

He glanced down at his pants skeptically, then back at her. "Huh?"

"Your pants fit very well, is all. And you have a nice ass." She waved a hand. "I'm ogling, go back to dressing."

Shaking his head, he tugged on an under armor shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you need clothes? I can ask Wanda."

"I only had my previous outfit on for a couple of hours, unless you ripped it." She climbed up. "Also. Wanda and I are not exactly the same size."

He made a face that indicated he hadn't thought of that and probably didn't want to. "I'll meet you downstairs, then?"

"If you eat the chicken cold out of the fridge I will be very displeased."

He pouted. "But _hungry_."

She climbed up, searching for her clothing on the floor. "I'm dressing, I'm dressing." He was all but tapping his foot by the time she finished and they headed downstairs. She admired his restraint at not just scooping her up and zooming down there.

"Patience is not your strong suit," she said as she turned the oven on and pulled the tupperware out onto the counter. It was so. . . retro. But there was something satisfying about making your man a meal after a hard day.

"Wanda said that was why my power manifested the way it did. I never could sit still."

She was picturing a little boy ping-ponging around the room. "So they didn't choose what you became?" They'd never really talked about any of that stuff. 

He shook his head, hopping up onto the counter to watch her. "No, they had no control over it. They had a staff with a glowing blue light. They exposed us to it, over and over again, for weeks. And eventually we noticed changes."

"Did it hurt?"

There was a slight hesitation, she almost missed it. It was long enough for her to look over at him as he said, "Yes, it did."

She supposed it would, physical changes like that. Wanda would have had headaches. His whole body would have hurt. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged easily. "It's all right. We signed up for it."

"Was it worth it?"

Another pause as he looked around the kitchen. "Today it is."

She opened the over and slid the chicken in, and then she went over to where he sat on the counter and put her hands on his knees. "Why today?"

"I have a team I like, that has my back. Everyone is healthy and happy. I'm here in my lovely house with you. All things I thought would never happen to me a few years ago. Today everything I've been through is worth it."

She rubbed his legs. "I'm honored to be on that list."

"I didn't think I'd made it a secret I was quite fond of you."

"I know, but—" she looked down, not sure how to articulate what she meant. It had been a long time since she'd been anybody's good news. She felt rusty at it. Being appreciated. Expressing gratitude. Expressing her feelings. He tilted his head, studying her moment. Then he leaned forward and kissed her with a remarkable amount of tenderness. She cupped his face in her hands. Maybe this would be enough. Maybe he'd understand.

The kiss went on. His hand fit around her waist, tugging her close. From the other side of the kitchen someone whistled. The oven beeped, too, like punctuation. "At least we're dressed," she murmured.

"I knew I should have gotten a boob out," he muttered, leaning away from her.

"I think that would only have horrified Zev," Wanda said brightly.

"I'm not related to her," Zev signed. "And you look like you have very nice boobs," he added to Ora. Wanda gave him a look and he made a who-me face. "She does."

"Don't translate that," Ora signed back. "You'll just rile him." She hooked a thumb at Pietro, who was making a face at the fact that he couldn't follow the conversation. "Your chicken is done," she said out loud.

"I suppose that will make up for your rudeness," he said, somehow managing to sound prim.

She rolled her eyes and plated his food. "Eat up."

"Do we get chocolatey chicken goodness?" Wanda asked as Pietro took the plate over to the island seating.

"You'll have to convince him to share." She pointed at the plate. "Now, that will feed a family of four, normally, but you know your brother."

Pietro made a noise that was kind of like a growl and his sister shook her head. "I'll fix us something else."

She reached up and ruffled his hair affectionately. "All yours."

He reached out and hooked an arm around her waist, tugging her into his side for a hug. She smiled and turned her face up to kiss his jaw. "Good?"

It took him a moment to finish chewing and swallow so he could respond. "Yes. Delicious as always."

She leaned on him, and then noticed Wanda giving them a funny look. "Something wrong?"

The look changed to a wide, oddly secretive smile. "No. Not a thing is wrong."

She supposed with someone like that, that would have to be good enough. Ora was a very curious person. Being in these people's orbits was going to be an exercise in patience. "I think I'm going to grab a shower, if you don’t mind. Don't make yourself sick."

He made offended face, even as Wanda said, "I'll watch him."

"Thank you." She kissed Pietro's cheek, and he made a return kissing noise around his fork, and then she went upstairs.

*

This did mean Pietro was left alone with his sister and Zev. Zev was busy eating and not even looking at them. Wanda was giving him a cheshire-cat grin. "What?"

"I didn't say a word."

"That smile speaks more that you ever could. What is it?"

She took a bite of the sandwich she'd just finished making. "You know you have been blasting me with enough emotion to bottle and sell it on a street corner as as narcotic."

"That's. . . I'm sorry?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I'm just glad it's happy emotions. Though Zev is straining not to point out the weirdness of me getting a contact high from my brother."

"I prefer not to examine the implications of that."

She was watching him in that way of hers, and seemed to choose her words carefully. "You have done a remarkable job of hiding how you felt about her."

He frowned, chasing the last couple bites of rice with his fork. "We're still figuring out what we are."

"Oh." Wanda sounded very surprised.

There was nothing more frustrating than your baby sister acting like she knew something you didn't. "Why? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I don't think you need me to tell you you're in love with her."

His frown turned to a scowl and he poked at his food again. "She has a lot of walls up."

"So do you, dearest."

"Don't meddle, Wanda."

She shrugged. "You wanted to know. I can't help feeling it, you're both like little beacons."

Both. That was interesting. "If I push her it'll go poorly. Look how long it took to get her here."

"And why do you think she did that?"

"She said she was worried about me."

She ate her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "Reason to get on the update list, sure."

"She said the others invited her to brunch."

Wanda made a face. "You can be kind of dumb sometimes, you know that?"

"I did know that," he said, getting up to take his plate to the sink. He paused to kiss her cheek on the way by. "You're the smart twin."

"Of course I am." She turned and looked at him. "You don't want me to meddle, I don't want to meddle. So we can stop talking about this. But she was so nervous standing out there I could feel it from the air."

"I know she didn't want to meet the people here. I'm very touched she did, I told her as much. But I can't push her. You don't have to be a telepath to know that. I don't know what you expect me to do."

"I don't know, either. My relationship is full of honestly, because we have no other option. It's scary, sometimes, but it's also helpful. We are what we are. No one is walking on eggshells. No one is playing their cards close to their chest. No one's afraid of the other's reactions. It's liberating."

He glanced over at Zev, who was still at least pretending to be completely engrossed in his food. "The rest of us really don't work that way."

"And there is a difference between pushing and reaching."

"All right. I'll. . . think about it."

She went on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Good."

He tried to recall if she'd manipulated him this easily before the telepathy. Probably. It's what little sisters did.

"Zev and I are taking Clint's boat out," she said. "You guys are welcome to come."

An afternoon on the lake would be nice. And probably feel very normal and private for Ora. "I'll ask her."

"I could run next door and ask Darcy for a suit to borrow."

Yes, Darcy would be a closer fit to Ora's measurements. Though, now he was picturing her squeezed into one of Wanda's little bikinis and grinning. His sister squeaked and did a little dance of disgust. "Sorry, sorry. I will got upstairs and report back her answer."

She physically shoved him towards the door. "Go."

He laughed as he sprinted up the steps, entering his room just in time to see Ora coming out of the bathroom. "My timing is impeccable."

The towel she'd wrapped herself in was tiny. He approved. "You did run," she told him with a grin.

"Habit." He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her. "Wanda and Zev invited us to a day on the lake."

She let go of the towel and pressed against him. "Sounds like fun."

He grinned, letting his hands wander over her back. "Wanda said she'll ask Darcy for a suit you can borrow."

"Mmm, I need to run home anyway, so I can grab mine."

"All right. How much time do you need?"

"Twenty minutes or so to drive. I just have to run up. I keep a couple of morning-after pills in my medicine cabinet. Unless you're in the mood to be a Daddy."

"No, no, I'd prefer not to just yet." Though maybe that was a conversation they needed to have. About accidents. "Don't those make girls sick?"

"Sometimes, but the alternatives are all worse."

That was a very good point. "It'll take us that long to gather supplies and get the boat going."

She kissed his jaw. "You should consider getting your hands off my ass if you want me to get this show on the road."

"But it's such a _nice_ ass," he complained. He gave it one more little squeeze before releasing her. 

She stepped away from him, and he enjoyed watching her get dressed. When she was concentrating on something else, she often looked very. . . unguarded. He wondered if that was a glimpse at how she'd been before.

When she was fully clothed, he figured it was safe to hug her again. "I like the idea of spending a whole day with you." He didn't know if that was reaching or not, but he figured reminding her of how much he liked having her around had to help.

She tucked her head under his chin and sighed. "We should see each other in daylight more."

"I think that's a fine plan. Especially on boats in bathing suits." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll put sunscreen on your back."

Ora chuckled. "Oh, now I see how it is."

"I've not been shy about my lecherousness." 

She shook her head. "If I didn't know how well you look after me when I don't feel good, I'd think you were just in it for the nookie."

"The nookie is just a nice perk," he assured her. "I like you all the rest of the time. Especially when you're smiling and happy."

"I think I've done that more in the past couple months than in the past couple years." It was a small, quiet admission.

"Me too," he told her, then bent his head to kiss her. "We're good together."

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck, holding him what felt like as tight as she could. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair and her back. "I gotcha," he said softly. He felt her nod against him, and he was surprisingly content just to hold her.

When she finally lifted her head, she took a deep breath and nodded again. "I should get going. The lake awaits."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be waiting for your return."

She cupped his cheek and kissed him lightly, and then turned and left.


	9. Chapter 9

Pietro went down and out to the dock so he and Zev could prep the boat for going out while Wanda fixed them some snacks. He really needed to learn some ASL. Apparently Thor had picked some up just so he could make chitchat with Zev when they passed in the yard in the morning/evening. The guy was in his house all the time.

Ora came back half an hour later, in cut-off shorts and delightfully small bikini top. His grin was probably ridiculously wide, but he found he didn't care. "This is a nice outfit," he told her. "I like that you dress like an American," he added, teasing.

She grinned back. "If I was dressing like a European at the beach, I'd be topless."

"Normally I would be all for that, but Wanda would want to do it, too and we have an agreement about her boobs staying hidden at all times in my presence." 

She leaned up to give him quick kiss, and went to climb onto the boat. He watched until Wanda punched him in the arm. He grinned at her and scooped her up, tossing her onto the boat as well before hopping over himself.

Once they were out in the middle of the lake, Ora shimmied out of her cutoffs—the bottom of her suit wasn't much bigger than the top—and dove off the end of the boat into the water. When she surfaced, she yelled, "Don't be a pansy."

"I could just leave you there," he called back. "If you're going to be insulting." Ora grinned an instant before he felt Wanda's powers lift him and toss him into the water. 

When he surfaced he could hear her laughing, but she had swum over to him. "Also, don't drown."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding them both up. "You won't give me mouth-to-mouth?"

"I honestly have no idea how. Though I'm pretty sure, being a sort-of doctor, that Zev does."

Wanda must have relayed this to Zev, because he heard her laughing and the wheezing noise that Zev made when amused. "That would add an awkward new wrinkle to our relationship."

"You can run fast, can you swim fast?"

He nodded. "I can even run on the water if I get a good head start."

"Can I ride you like a jet ski?"

Dunking her would probably get him in trouble. "I'm going to say no."

She grinned at him like she knew what he was thinking. "What if I promised to ride you really well the other way as a reward?"

"No!" Wanda yelled from the boat.

He slid a hand down to cup Ora's ass. "Later," he murmured in her ear.

After their swim, they stretched out on the lounge seats in the back of the boat to get some sun and dry off while Zev and Wanda were in the water. He got them drinks and then Ora laid with her head his his lap and arranged herself for maximum sun exposure. Whatever she'd put on her golden skin shimmered in the sunlight. She'd undone her braid so her hair could dry, and it draped across his legs. He found himself absently picking out tangles as they floated in companionable silence.

When Zev and Wanda were done and had had their drying time they puttered back to the dock at half speed, enjoying the air and the remaining sun. After they'd unloaded and tossed towels into the laundry he asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner, or do you need to get home?"

He could see her hesitate, but then she said, "I could stay for dinner."

"I will make Wanda bake," he said, leaning in to kiss her. For a moment, he just held her again and whispered, "Thank you."

She tipped her head back and reached up to sift her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle and tender. She was all sass and bravado in public, but he liked his version of her, too. The one that was his. "Today was a really nice day."

"Yes, it was." Reach, his sister had set. "You fit in my life very well. I hope we have a lot more days like this."

That made her smile. "So do I."

He nuzzled her hair. "Want to share the shower? Warm up?"

Her arms wrapped around his waist. "I figure that pill's got to get us 24 hours, at least, of irresponsibility."

Yeah. He really did love this woman. "Tub it is."

*

Ora loved the beginning of a new school year. Despite the paperwork and hassles and running around, she loved the feeling of new beginnings. Of summer giving way to fall and everything starting over again. And this particular fall was one she felt more positive about than any in a long time.

She and Pietro had started splitting time between their places. They'd probably be at his more if it wasn't still a procedural pain for her to get into the complex unescorted. They hadn't really discussed how they defined themselves, but when one of her freshman asked her if she was married, she replied, "No, but I do have a boyfriend," without missing a beat.

Two days after Labor Day she got a text from Darcy Bennet. _The ladies are heading down to NYC for lunch, drinks and shopping. Wanna come?_

Ora chewed her lip, staring at her phone so intently Pietro stopped eating his dinner to ask, "What?"

"Darcy invited me to come down to New York for a girls day."

His brows went up. "They've accepted you as one of your own."

She fiddled with her phone. "It won't be just the wives, though, will it?"

"No," he admitted quietly. "Maria Hill and Natasha go on those. As does Wanda, if that helps."

Ora took a breath and typed, _When?_

_This Saturday. Transportation provided. As well as the food and drink and some of the shopping. You bring yourself and any stories you're willing to tell._

She knew Wanda was going on Sunday to meet Zev's family for the Jewish holidays. She and Pietro had been excited about the empty house for two days—so much so she'd rearranged her syllabus for a light Monday. Maybe she could get some lingerie for the occasion.

Pietro was watching her. "You think I should go?" she asked him.

"I have never known them to come back and not had a good time. And based on the tales the men tell, horny and mildly drunk. So I might be biased."

"Will you wait for me on the wife life?" she teased.

"I think tradition is hovering on the porch in case our women needs to be carried. Which I am happy to do."

She grinned. "I like it when you carry me."

"I know you do." He picked up his plate and kissed her on the top of the head as he passed. "Go. Have fun. I don't think you'll regret it."

As he puttered in the kitchen, he typed back, _I'm in. Tell me where to be and when to be there._

The response was immediate. _Your porch. Ten am. See you there!_

Her fingers twitched to clarify it wasn't _her_ porch. She didn't live there. But she did expect to sleep there Friday night, so. . .

Darcy would just enumerate all the ways it was totally her porch. Not worth the discussion.

Saturday morning, she was on the porch with Wanda waiting for the rest of the women to materialize. "It really is fun," she offered, sipping a travel mug of coffee. "Though at times . . . graphic."

Ora raised an eyebrow. "Graphic how?"

"Sex," Wanda said. "I have never been to a teenaged slumber party but I have it on reliable authority that our girls' days are remarkably similar only with better knowledge of anatomy."

"Well. You're probably going to want me to keep my mouth shut, then, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "I'm aware you have sex. I tease him but I hear people's thoughts. Not much horrifies me. If you want to share, feel free. It's up to you."

"I've gotten used to a life without privacy, so I have no shame anymore."

"In return, you will find out all the secrets of the Avenger sex lives. I believe Darcy keeps a cheat sheet for newcomers."

"I still haven't decided how I feel about all that."

Wanda glanced over at her. "The Avengers?"

She shrugged and sighed, realizing it probably sounded ridiculous. "Seeing them as. . .people."

"Ah." Wanda squinted out at the lawn that sprawled in the center of the houses. "I do sympathize. I know Pietro has told you how we used to feel about Stark. I will tell you, as someone who can read minds and hearts, so to speak. That grudges only hurt the person keeping the grudge. And if you told Maria or Steve or Nat what happened to you they would try to fix it for you."

"I don't think anyone has that power. There isn't much that can be walked back. But, from everything Pietro has said, I do believe everyone's intentions now are good. So I am. . . trying. I know it's important to him." 

"They are our family. And much like any other family, they have their downsides. But they are very welcoming and very loving, if you give them a chance."

"I thought that of mine once, too." She closed her eyes. God, don't go there. Don't drag that mess into today. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I swear I am not going to do this all day."

Wanda laughed. "It's all right. I assure you, if nothing else, the collected club will distract you." She lifted a hand and waved at Violet and Nat, who were coming up the walk. "Time to go."

Ora had heard a lot of things about Natasha Romanov. Some myth, some legend, a whole slew of very ugly facts. Her entire life was on the internet, too. There was also a collection incongruous things Pietro and Wanda had told her about Nat, about baking and pets. 

She trailed after Wanda to meet the two women. Violet hugged her and Natasha stepped forward and held out a hand. "We haven't me. I'm Nat Barton."

"Ora Martinez," she said, shaking it. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm glad you could come."

"Well. I've never been on a private jet before."

She grinned and it changed her whole face, made her look young and pretty instead of mysterious and seductive. "It's a lot of fun. Come on, they're going to leave without us soon."

There. She had met an Avenger, and former SHIELD employee. And it had been perfectly nice. She was going to have fun today.

They took one of the golf carts out to the air strip where, sure enough, a jet was idling. When they got inside, they discovered the rest of the women were already there. Pepper waved. "Come in. We have brunch stuff and mimosas."

The inside of the plane was gorgeous, full of wood and cream leather seats. For a moment she just stared, and Darcy called out, "Don't worry, you get used to how rich Pepper is."

Violet hooked an arm through Ora's and lead her to a seat. "It's true, you do. For now pretend you're in a movie, it helps."

The seat was more like an armchair, but it had a seat belt, which Ora hooked automatically. Someone handed her a plate of fruit and pastries and a mimosa and before she knew it the doors were closed and they were taking off.

Wanda was in the seat next to her, and introduced her to the two women she didn't know, Amanda Newbury and Maria Hill—though she and Hill had spoken on the phone. She'd been brusque and all business at the time, though Pietro told her that was normal. Now she was at least smiling.

Amanda she knew was the team doctor, and the person who had saved Pietro's life when he was shot. At first glance she didn't look much like a superhero. Tall and brunette with hints of grey starting at the temples. She was in shape, but in the suburban mom way, not the lean and deadly way of Natasha. She did have a very impressive scar on her cheek and a resting bitch face that would put off just about anyone.

"It's nice to meet both," Ora said. She wasn't really a shy person. And she was used to speaking in front of crowds. But just like her first visit, she felt unaccountably nervous. No way through that but forward. "Your daughter is adorable," she added to Amanda.

The bitch face changed to a smile that turned her beautiful. "Thank you. She's learning to work it to her advantage. I shudder to think what her Daddy will let her get away with today." 

"Half of the fun," Pepper said, "Is leaving the men with the children."

"They like making Steve change diapers," Sharon said, even more pregnant than the last time Ora had seen her.

"It's good," Violet said. "I don't think my husband ever saw a diaper before Ada's baby shower. Parenthood is hard enough without having to figure out how the tabs work while being peed on."

Beside her, Wanda was texting something. Perhaps asking Zev if he needed diaper lessons. They seemed that sort of serious.

"Tony wanted to build a diaper changing robot," Pepper said. "I told him no."

"You know, I think you should let him make all those ridiculous, useless machines," Amanda said. "Just go full on absent-minded professor. We'll never have to see him again."

"I like keeping him making useful things. Leave him directionless and sometimes you get. . . ill advised creations."

"You make a good point."

Violet sipped her mimosa. "You know considering the way you all procreate I wouldn't say no to a diaper changing machine."

"I got you a helper," Pepper offered. "Who, granted, travels with me half the time. Do you need another one for Superbaby over there?"

"I might," she conceded. "Two toddlers and two infants is a lot for one person. Even just someone half days would be a big help."

Darcy waved a hand when Pepper picked up a Stark tablet. "I got it. I'll get in touch with the Cornel education department. Get some early childhood development students some class credit for raising Avenger babies."

"Are we going with Superbaby?" Sharon asked, rubbing her belly. "I would think some sort of army rank joke. Private America."

"That sounds vaguely like it could be the name of a book about people's sex habits," Ora said, causing them all to look at her. She winced a little.

Darcy grinned, though. "I knew I liked you."

"As soon as I said it, I knew," Sharon muttered.

"Oh, there has to be something," Amanda said. "We had all manner of names for Edie. American Recruit?"

" _That_ sounds like a gay porn spoof of a war movie," Maria Hill drawled.

"Captain Baby?" Wanda offered.

"Oh, that's a Wacky 80's Kid Comedy," Pepper said. "Adorable one year old accidentally drafted. Hijinks ensue."

Darcy had her tablet out. "Talk slower, I'm writing this down."

"There was a Captain America show like that in the sixties," Amanda said. "When the Adam West Batman was popular? All the commandos were unfortunate stereotypes except for Bucky, who was a little kid and got captured a lot."

"They made a lot of weird Captain America stuff while he was under the ice," Sharon said.

"And I own most of it. And torment our husbands with it."

Ora was surprised at how funny and warm the ladies were. They actually did kind of remind her of her family, all of the women packed in the kitchen at Christmas, making empanadas and joking about the men. "When is your baby due?" she asked Sharon.

"December. Due date's two days after our first anniversary. We were efficient."

"They're very fertile," Darcy said.

"We never managed to have a family party without someone being pregnant," Ora said. "My sisters are very fertile."

"Do not let them hook up with a super soldier," Amanda told her sagely. "Not that there are any left, but it's still good advice."

"Really," Pepper said. "Any superheroes. They're all a pain in the ass."

"Speak for yourself," Jane said, which made Pepper laugh.

It was not a long plane ride from Ithaca to the Teteboro airport that the jet had to land in and they had barely finished their plates before it was time to buckle up for the descent. They were met outside the plane by a long limo big enough for all of them. Ora heard Pepper mutter about needing to split the group if it got any bigger as they all climbed in.

"I booked a room at the restaurant," Darcy said. "It was the only way to fit us all."

"Booked it with Pepper's credit card?" Maria asked.

"If she didn't want me to abuse my power she shouldn't have given me any."

"My only request was padded chairs," Pepper said. Ora frowned, and she added, "I'm having shots in the ass with a very big needle every day."

"IVF," Wanda explained quietly. "Pepper and Tony are in the middle of a transfer."

"That's going very well," Amanda added, in the tone of someone who had been doing a lot of reassuring.

"Oh, don't whisper," Pepper said. "We're all friends here."

"The progesterone?" Ora asked. "You think they'd come up with a better delivery method. My ex and I got halfway through a round before the shit hit the fan." She shrugged, surprised at how easy it was to talk about such a painful memory. "It was all him, though, so I'm hoping I will never have to revisit that experience."

"I'd put Tony on it, but this is our last embryo." She smiled a little. "He's named it The Lone Ranger." 

"I am sending you sticky vibes," Wanda said, wiggling her fingers. A little mote of red light flickered off her finger tips, drifting towards Pepper.

Pepper grinned. "Thank you."

Ora really did like these women.


	10. Chapter 10

Lunch was at a semi-upscale place with a Mediterranean slant. Appetizers were passed around, entrees were delicious and well portioned and someone - it might have been Sharon - told the waiter to just bring them two of every dessert. Conversation ranged from work to kids to sex, just as easy and fun as it had been on the plane.

"Wanda?" Darcy asked at one point. "Are we allowed to ask her questions?"

There was a murmur of laughter. "Yes," Wanda said with an eye roll. "I have no shame."

"Are you sure?" Sharon asked. "I have brothers, I don't want to hear about their sex life."

"That's a luxury you have because you are not a telepath," Wanda replied.

Ora put her hands over her face. "Oh, my God."

"Yes," she said dryly. "I've heard."

There was a round of laughter, and she bent forward and put her head on the table.

"Fuck it," Darcy said. "Im asking my question. Can he do the blurry fast thing with his fingers? And, if so, is it awesome or ouchie?"

Ora cleared her throat and looked up, deliberately avoiding looking at Wanda. "Um. Yes. And, awesome, as long as it's not too fast. Then it's a little like a vibe turned too high." She took a drink. "Though I. . . well, he can do that with pretty much anything."

She could tell exactly when each of them figured it out. "No wonder he got so much ass," Nat muttered eventually.

She laughed. "He also does look very nice naked."

"I did know that." Before Ora could react, she added, "The twins stayed with Clint and I for a few months between Sokovia and moving upstate. Pietro had a bad habit of forgetting he had roommates when he'd first woken up. Or showered."

Wanda rubbed a hand over her eyes in obvious sympathy.

"Yeah, I don't mind so much when walks around in a tiny towel," Ora said.

"I would imagine not," Nat agreed. "We just had a lot of jokes about adopting them. It was awkward."

"Nat and Clint are our official cool older siblings," Wanda confirmed. "Violet's team mom. There's a intricate hierarchy."

"I'm a cool mom, though," Violet piped up. "The kind that would let you drink in the basement."

Ora's phone beeped and she glanced at it. _The boys are making me change diapers. Is there something I should know?_

_It's probably more useful than wedding planning,_ she replied. _And no, nothing to worry about._

_I'm going to start refusing, then. You doing all right?_

_Yes. They're a lot of fun. And Wanda's taking good care of me._

_Good. I'll stop fretting._

Ora grinned down at her phone. He took good care of her.

When the last of the dessert plates was cleaned and Pepper had signed what had to be an exorbitant bill, they piled back in the limo for shopping.

"It's lingerie shopping," Wanda said. "In case you didn't get the memo."

"You don't have to get lingerie though," Violet added. "I get very nice nightgowns."

"Having seen your taste in bathing suits," Nat said, "I'd expect you do get some, though."

Ora grinned. "I like fancy lingerie. I credit that with none of the nudie pictures of me on the internet are actually completely naked."

There was a beat of silence, then Darcy asked, "You have nudes on the internet?"

She looked over at Wanda. "I thought you told them."

"I told them a bunch of your personal information was released in the SHIELD dump. I didn't know that particular detail."

"Ah. Well. The pictures are kind of the least of it. SHIELD was tracking me, and they gathered literally all the data that was out there, including the contents of all of my email and text messages, computer records, everything. Literally everything. Medical records, employment, credit—I mean literally everything. Somebody mad at me sifted out my stuff and ruined my life. Also, literally." She was impressed at how emotionless she sounded when she spoke. She'd been about the same when she told Pietro. Maybe she was finally numb to her own tragedy.

There was another pause. Then Maria muttered, "Sonovabitch," under her breath.

"I'm very sorry," Sharon said sincerely.

She shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm sure that's why my background check won't clear and Pietro has to keep putting me on the Day Guest list every time I come over. I had to get a new social security number, which can't be helping."

Sharon and Maria exchanged a look she couldn't really read. "I'll make some calls," Maria said. "Now that I know the extent of it I can probably cut the right tape."

"In the mean time, lingerie," Nat said brightly. "As is tradition when we welcome a new one to the fold."

Her mood was kind of ruined now—though she'd babbled her way onto the topic herself, so it was her own fault. But, she was the queen of pasting on a smile and fake-it-till-you-make-it. They weren't at Pepper's level, but Ora was pretty sure none of these other women were hurting for money and any place they chose to shop would be well out of her budget. Trying on would still be fun. She'd take some pictures in the dressing room and send them to Pietro. Chin up.

They pulled up in front of a two story brick building with a subtle, tasteful sign reading La Pearla.

Pepper caught her arm as they walked in. "Get whatever you like. Don't look at the price tag. It's tradition."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I have a lot of money and I hate for anyone to miss out on fun because they don't. I've done it for everyone here."

"It's true," Violet confirmed. "I could not have afforded it on my not-a-nanny salary."

Ora wondered if it was shallow that that improved her mood. But it really kind of did. And she looked _great_ in lingerie.

The dressing rooms were a bit of a circus. Though there was a lot you could tell about a woman based on the lingerie they chose. Violet had an armload of delicate and romantic nighties. Pepper and Amanda went more functional and elegant. And Nat and Darcy joined her in trying to give their mates heart attacks.

She didn't take any pictures of what she bought, because she was going to show him in person.

*

Pietro had heard tales of the time before people had kids, when the women would go have their girls time, and the men would go do something manly. Once, apparently, there was a strip club. He probably would have enjoyed that. Now, there was a barbecue and kid-chasing. Not that that wasn't manly, but it was certainly out of sync with where Pietro was in his life.

He spent most of these parties as a human carnival ride, anyway. 

By the time Ora came home, he was worn out and a little tipsy from Thor's mead. He was very happy to see her though. "Did you have a good time?" he asked, holding an arm out to hold her.

She sank onto the couch and tucked herself against his side. "I did. Everyone was very nice."

"Mmm. Good. I hoped it was the case when Wanda didn't send me any panicked texts."

She turned her face up and kissed his jaw. "She took care of me. Sharon apologized for the SHIELD mess. It wasn't in any way her fault, but I appreciated it. And Hill is going to take another pass at my clearance."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. "Sounds like a productive day, then."

Ora was quiet a moment, then she asked, "What if they refuse to clear me?"

"Well, you already know about Wanda, which is the biggest secret we have." He shrugged, playing idly with her hair. "I don't have to live on base. I can move to somewhere in the city, so you don't have to deal with the front gate."

"You'd move for me?" she asked.

He craned his neck a bit to look at her. "Of course."

"Your sister is here, and all your friends. . ." She bumped his shoulder. "And your house is really, really nice."

"It is. But if it is not welcoming for you, then it's not my home." He frowned. That mead was dangerous. "Did that make sense?"

Her eyes were misty suddenly. There were moments he thought her walls were like a castle fortress, and then there'd be moments when they seemed made of glass. "Yeah. That makes sense."

"Good." He gave a little nod, like Clint did when he wished to put a period at the end of a conversation. Then he leaned in to kiss her.

She came to him eagerly, crawling into his lap. "I bought lingerie."

"My prayers have been answered," he murmured. Really, the thought of her in lace and satin had been the only thing that got him through the toddler brigade.

She straightened to pull her shirt over her head. "It was really expensive, but it's really sexy. I think."

He gave her a crooked grin. "If it's on you, then it's sexy."

From somewhere in her purse he heard her phone started to play a tune. She sighed, and turned to glare at it. "Let me turn it off," she said. She climbed off his lap and pulled the phone out. Instead of turning it off, she stared at it. "It's my mother."

Reaching out, he tugged her close so he could hug her again. "Answer it."

"My mother hasn't talked to me in. . ." she shook her head. It was still ringing.

"If she's calling you now, it's probably important," he coaxed.

It took her a moment, but she nodded, and pressed the button to answer. "Hola?" Her conversation was in Spanish, so he didn't understand a word, but it was clear very quickly something was wrong.

Well, he had money, a psychic sister, and very powerful friends. They could handle it. When she hung up her hand was shaking and her eyes were bright. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

She cleared her throat, and tipped her head back. "Um. My brother died."

He was surprised at the stab of pain that caused in him. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her a little. "I'm sorry, _zolotoya_."

She curled into him, pressing her face into his neck. "He got out of prison and went back to the gang. Back to dealing. Somebody shot him."

Helpless, he rubbed her back and kissed the top of his head. "Do you want to go to California? See your family, the funeral?"

"My mother asked me to come." She rubbed her eyes. "She asked for help with the funeral, too. For some reason they think I have a lot of money. Compared to them, I suppose it seems like I must." She straightened and cleared her throat again. "I need to, um, I have to go, I have things to—to—" Her voice caught and she put her hands over her face.

He tucked her back against his chest and looked up. "FRIDAY, tell Tony I need to take the jet to LA tonight. And then find me a few middle of the road funeral homes in LA and get some prices." He glanced down at her. "Burial or cremation? Catholics don't like cremation, do they?"

He really expected her to argue with him, but instead it seemed to be the thing made her crack. She shook her head, he assumed about cremation, and then she started to cry. Great heaving sobs, the sort that made her whole body shake.

To his great and utter relief Wanda's voice trickled in his head. _I will talk to funeral homes. Calm her down and get her home to pack. Tony says the jet will be ready in an hour and they're clearing the landing now._

_Thank you, I love you._ He scooped Ora up and sat on the bed with her in his lap. "Shh. It's all right. It'll be all right."

The crying tapered off, but she held onto him for a moment. "I want to tell you I can handle it," she whispered. "But I don't think I can."

He kissed her hair. "You don't have to handle it. You have me and my sister and Zev and anyone else we need to drag in to help. You aren't alone."

"I think I got so used to being alone, I forgot how to not be."

"Well, we're rather large and loud and impossible to ignore. I'm sure you'll get used to it soon."

She lifted her head, and then reached up to run her fingers through his hair. Her eyes were red and watery, but she smiled. "Thank you."

He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. "You're welcome. Now, come on. I'll take you home and you can pack."

She slowly climbed off his lap and stood. She found her shirt on the floor, and part of him was sad that her fancy lingerie vanished beneath it. "Did I just hear you _inform_ Tony Stark you were borrowing his plane?"

"Tony is a friend," he said with a half shrug. "Friends borrow things. When your friend is Tony Stark that includes jets."

"You should put that in the Avenger Girlfriend brochure," she told him.

"I'll speak with the printer."

He packed himself a bag, including digging out the one suit he owned. Tony had gotten them all bespoke suits on the occasion of Steve's wedding. You could probably buy a car with what it cost, and he wasn't sure if it was quite the thing to wear to a funeral full of normal people, but it was the only suit he had. Then he took her home to pack her bags, which culminated in her throwing every dress and skirt she owned onto her bed in search of something appropriate, and then crying over the pile.

"We can go shopping in LA if you want," he offered, feeling rather helpless again. "Or ask around the ladies." He was fairly certain Darcy or Nat would have _something_ she'd fit in that was mourning appropriate.

"Shopping would be fine." She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Your brother died and you're seeing your estranged family in a few hours. You don't have to apologize to me for anything for the next week, minimum. Milk it."

"I shudder to think what I will owe you by the end of it." That she felt up to teasing him made him feel better.

"I'll keep a list and we can hash it out when it's over." He held out and arm for her. "We'll get through." She came over to hug him, tucking her head under his chin. She really did fit there perfectly.

He got her to pack a bag with a week's worth of non funeral clothes, plus some jewelry and toiletries. She sent an email canceling her classes, then they were on their way back to the compound to board the jet. Wanda sent him an email with the details of the funeral, as well as who to call to arrange for the body to be picked up. He also appeared to have hotel reservations. He loved his sister.

Ora called her mother, a long conversation in Spanish that involved a lot of crying. Pietro went through the funeral itinerary—Catholics made quite the elaborate production out of them, it seemed. If you asked him, sitting in a room looking at a dead body for three days was pretty creepy, but everyone had their rituals. Wanda had roped Darcy in and they'd dug up the details of what church her family attended from the released SHIELD files. Probably the first time those had done some good.

"My mother is immensely grateful," Ora said, dropping into the seat across from him. "And wondered who the hell manages to plan a funeral in 4 hours."

"Jews. We bury our dead in 24 hours. It's stressful, but it's neater."

She tipped her head back. "I. . . am going to avoid mentioning that to my mother for the time being."

It took a moment to process her meaning. Then he laughed. "It's good in this age of monsters and miracles we can still get judged on good old fashioned religious differences."

"I know the funeral must have been very expensive. . ."

"Shush. It's fine."

"I have had a lot of generosity bestowed on me today."

He laughed. "We are a generous bunch. Or so I like to think." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I like to take care of you. I had nothing for a long time. I want to help others where I can."

She leaned into him. "Nobody's taken care of me in a very long time. But I think I'm going to let you, just this once."

"Thank you," he said, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close. 

"Don't let it get to your head. Your ego doesn't need any help."

"Eh, I'm sure you'll keep me in line once you're feeling better."

She snuggled against him for a moment. "Is there somewhere to lay down on this plane?"

"There is." He kissed her hair one more time and stood, tugging her to her feet. "I'll show you." He lead her to the back of the plane and opened the door to the master bedroom.

She shook her head. "This is a life I could become accustomed to."

"It is easy to get used to it."

She sat on the bed, and then swung her legs up at stretched out. "Lay with me?"

He stretched out next to her and held out an arm so she could tuck into his side. Sighing in contentment, he stroked her hair, breathing in her scent. She made a humming noise, and laced their fingers together. He could feel her relaxing. He found himself thinking about what Wanda had said about the two of them having matching beacons. He wasn't one to overthink things—his sister did that enough for five people. But moments like this, he could almost feel it.

The thought made him smile as they both drifted to sleep.

*

They slept a couple of hours before the plane landed. A car picked them up from the airport, and took them to the hotel. She was going through the various emails about the funeral arrangements and the texts her mother had sent, and didn't really pay attention to where they were. Pietro dealt with the bags and the bellhop, and it was only when then were in the lobby that she looked around.

"Is this the hotel from Pretty Woman?"

They were walking to the front desk and he looked around. "I. . . have no idea. Is that a movie?"

"Yes. From the 80's. About a rich man who gets a hooker and buys her lots of fancy clothes and they fall in love."

He paused a moment, then glanced at his phone as if it might help him out. "Darcy Bennet has a strange sense of humor?"

"That's something even I already know."

"Do you want to change hotels?"

She threaded her arm through his. "Are you kidding? This is a really nice hotel." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. When this is over, we should rent that movie."

"It's a chick flick," she told him. 

"I have proven my tolerance for those many times."

They'd reached the front desk, and the clerk handed over their keys. The room they'd been given was exceedingly nice, but that seemed to be par for the course with this crowd. Once they were settled, and surrounded by more silence than noise, she could feel grief begin to wash back in.

Pietro hovered about helplessly. "Is there anything I can do?"

She rubbed her eyes, trying to get the energy to move from the foot of the bed. "Is there a minibar?"

"There is. What would you like to start with?"

"Whatever has the highest proof."

"Got it." He went to rummage and came back a moment later, holding out tequila. "I got myself a vodka. For balance."

She clinked her little bottle against his. "Ethnic stereotypes for the win."

"As openings went, it seems to have worked out for me."

The tequila burned on the way down. You'd think a hotel like this would have better booze. "And look, now we're having our first vacation together."

He gave her his crooked grin. "Would it be crass to try to convince you to go to Disneyland?"

She turned her head and looked at him. "You want to go to Disneyland?"

"I've never been," he said. "I used to hear about it on TV when I was a boy. It sounded fun. Happiest place on earth, yeah?"

She really would have expected his R&R request to include something like Vegas or one of the beach resorts south of the border in Mexico. Maybe even seeing the famous local nightlife—she didn't doubt he could get them into any club he chose. Sometimes, he really surprised her. 

She should probably get back as quickly as possible after the funeral. She had classes to teach. He had responsibilities. Her brother just died, she shouldn't be enjoying herself. On the other hand, he had just kind of made miracles happen for her. "You know what? Fuck it. Let's go to Disneyland."

The way his face split into a grin made it all absolutely worth it. "Really? You're sure?"

She reached out to hug him, suddenly grateful he managed to get her out of her own head. "Yes, _amorcito_ , I'm sure."

He wrapped her up tightly in his arms and kissed her head. "I will buy you mouse ears."

"You'll buy the tickets, too. It's the only thing keeping me from feeling like a cradle robber."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure someone at Disney will be impressed I'm an Avenger."

She leaned back to look at him. "You always make me feel better. How do you do that?"

He gave her a little squeeze. "No matter how bad life is there is always a bright side. There's always something good. Even if it's only the fact you don't have to face it alone."

There was a lump in her throat, and it wasn't at all about sadness. She loved him. She was as as sure of that as she'd ever been of anything. And she wanted so much to tell him, but some small paranoid part of her feared he wouldn't say it back, and it would end up being awkward. And right now, the next couple of days, she needed him as much as she needed air. So she kissed him, as if perhaps she could show him.

He groaned a little, sliding his hand into her hair. There was passion and heat in the kiss, but there was emotion as well. And she let herself believe it came from him as much as from her. She nearly climbed into his lap, wanting to get closer to him, and whispered, "Please."

"I'm here," he told her, sliding his hands under her shirt to tug it off. "I've got you."

She raised her arms for him. "I need you."

With another groan he tossed it aside, then undid her bra. That was tossed the same place as the shirt. And then he was leaning close, taking a nipple in his mouth and tugging with his teeth. She arched her back, letting him lay her back on the bed. She wanted just to feel this, for everything else to fall away and the world to be nothing but the two of them.

He kissed across to her other breast, then down he belly. When he reached her waist band he deftly unfastened it, tugging her jeans and underwear down her legs, then he kissed back up her calf, then her thigh.

Nudging her legs apart he cupped a hand over her sex. Then he gave her that cocky grin of his and vibrated his hand in a way that made his whole lower arm seem to blur. "Fuck," she gasped, her body bowing up to him. Every time he did this, he got better at it, until the frequency was just perfect. It was a sharp, intense climb to the kind of orgasm she couldn't stop if she wanted to.

He slowed as she rode it out, bracing himself above her on the bed. When she could breath again he smiled and arched a brow. "Better?"

The pleasure had dissipated some of the tension in her. It made her feel good. But that was never really what this was about. "I need you," she repeated.

With a little nod he moved off the bed and stripped faster than she could see. A condom appeared just as quickly and then he was braced above her again, slowly sliding inside. In that timespan most men would have barely managed to roll over and sit up. She stroked her hands over his shoulder and let her eyes flutter closed as he filled her. "I love your superpowers."

He pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Good. We are stuck with them."

"Ah. . ." She lifted up to meet him as he started to move, and for a moment she couldn't even think, it felt so good. "I'm okay with that."

"Good," he whispered again, catching her mouth with his. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him down closer until their bodies pressed together. It was slow and deep and intimate, the way the two of them moved in time.

He kissed her and let one hand wander over her skin, stroking lightly, not stopping anywhere for long. After a while he released her mouth to dip his head down and kiss her throat, hips moving faster as he got closer to his own climax. She spoke to him in Spanish now, endearments and nonsense, things she knew he wouldn't understand even if they were coherent. She knew he'd know what _te amo_ meant, so she dug up some language he wouldn't—she thought it Hindi—and told him she loved him as she came.

His arms tightened and he mumbled something into her skin that didn't sound like any language at all. Then he buried himself as deep as he could, shuddering with his own release. She pressed her face into his neck, feeling tears sting her eyes again. He was still panting, but he held her close and stroked her hair, cradling her as they both calmed.

Eventually, he somehow managed to get them under the covers without letting her go. He left her only for a second, to sweep the room in a blur and turn the lights off, before he was back in her arms. "Tomorrow is going to be hard," she whispered into the quiet darkness.

"I know," he replied, rubbing her back in little circles. "I'll be right next to you."

She found his hand and wove their fingers together. "Then I'll be okay."

"I promise," he whispered, squeezing her hand. She sighed and closed her eyes. She felt safe, so she could sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Ora slept through Pietro waking up and taking a shower, and he decided to order them some room service for breakfast. He was starving and so got one of everything. Hopefully something would appeal to her. 

In the middle of the night he'd woken up to find her curled away from him, crying into her pillow. It made him feel helpless again, and the only thing he could do was wrap himself around her and hold her until she fell back asleep.

It was going to be a hell of couple of days.

She woke up about twenty minutes later and offered him a wan smile before going into the bathroom for her own morning routine. The food arrived while she was in there and he set it out on the meeting table by the windows so she could have her choice.

The spread made her smile for real. She radiated nerves and stress, but she put on a brave face and selected a plate of French Toast. "I told my mother I needed to shop for a dress before the wake tonight. She wants me to come by the house first."

"All right. That's probably a good idea. A little less pressure."

"I told her about you," she said as she dug in to her breakfast. "I told her you were an Avenger, since she asked what you did. I had several rounds of 'No, not that one' and an aborted lecture from her about sleeping with a married man."

He had to laugh. "Did she approve once you explained? Am I going to get a proper lecture?"

"I think so? Mostly she was happy I hadn't succumbed to the charms of Tony Stark. Apparently my cousin's mother-in-law's niece was working as a booth bunny at a convention and had sex with him like 15 years ago. She might come to the funeral, and then it would be awkward."

Pietro was going to make a point of remembering that - including the convoluted way Ora was related to the woman - for future Stark teasing. For now he was going to hope he didn't get slapped by proxy. "So visit with mom and dress shopping, then wake?"

"Fun day, eh?"

"Well, I'll be with you. I'm sure we'll manage." He leaned over to kiss her temple. "We'll be fine, _zolotoya_."

She leaned on him. "What does it mean? That word."

"Golden girl. You said your name means gold."

She turned her head enough to kiss his shoulder. "I like it."

"Good." He gave a little nod. "Finish your breakfast, you need it."

She ate for a moment, and he picked up another one of the plates and started in on the pancakes on it. When he looked up, she was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, and she just chuckled and shook her head.

"I always ate too much," he told her. "Two and three helpings. Wanda would give me her food sometimes, even though I didn't want her to. But hunger often won out." He crunched a piece of bacon. "I suppose eventually my metabolism would have slowed, but with the changes the scepter made." He shrugged.

"My mother is going to love you."

It was good to hear her sound happy. And it was reassuring. This was not the circumstances in which he'd wanted to meet her family. "She's going to feed me?"

"She will stuff you until you burst."

"Well then, I'm going to love her, too."

They called a cab from downstairs and soon were crawling their way through LA traffic. The houses got smaller and closer together, the neighborhoods rougher and the signs mostly in Spanish. He could see Ora's nerves get the better of her the closer they got. She'd tamp them down and straighten her spine, and then eventually it would get to her again. By the time they pulled to stop in front of a small bungalow, she was gripping his hand so hard it hurt.

"It'll be fine," he said softly as they climbed out of the car. "She wants to see you."

She looked down and took a slow breath. "The last time I saw her, she told me I ruined the family."

"Well, that was a long time ago." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "She just lost her son. Maybe it puts losing her daughter in perspective."

"Ora!" The screen door banged open and a small, round woman came barreling out. Pietro actually had to duck out of the way. Then they were hugging and crying and talking over each other in Spanish.

It seemed to be happy crying, at least. So maybe it was going well. He waited, hands in his pockets, while they had their reunion. Eventually they loosened their hug, enough that Ora could turn. "Mamá, this is Pietro."

"Ah, your Avenger," she replied, voice lilting with an accent. She glanced at Ora and said something in rapid Spanish. He caught the word 'delicioso'.

He held his hand out to her. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

She shook it, and then she hugged him, squeezing him so tight he half expected her to lift him off the ground. "Welcome, welcome."

"Thank you." He leaned back when she released him. "I'm very sorry about your son."

Her chin trembled, and she nodded. Then she said, "Thank you for bringing my daughter home."

Had it been any less sad a time, he might have pointed out that she was the one who sent Ora away in the first place. But, hell, she'd welcomed her back with open arms - literally - and Pietro had become a fan of second chances. For all he knew she'd groveled out an apology in the flurry of Spanish. "She's told me so much about you. It will be nice to put names to faces."

She smiled at him, and turned back to Ora. "Come inside. Your sisters are all on their way, but I wanted to start slow." She looked back in his direction. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm alway hungry, señora."

"Come, come then." She turned on her heel and marched towards the house.

Ora looked a little shell-shocked. Pietro put a hand on her back. "All right?"

She leaned on him. "Yes. I think so. Who knows what my sisters will be like. One of my brothers-in-law is an asshole that I'm really hoping she's divorced by this point. Run the kids around the street and they'll love you. Oh, and my father doesn't speak very much English. He doesn't speak very much period, actually. To this day I have no idea how he felt about all the shit that went down."

All in all, he'd rather be fighting killer robots. Still, he slung his arm around her shoulders and guided her up the walk. "I'll be at my most charming."

Her father met them in the living room. He wasn't a large man, and had a weathered face that showed a lifetime of outdoor labor. He hugged his daughter, and said something to her that made her cry. Again, they seemed like good tears. Then he turned and gave Pietro a long stare.

Had he not been a superhero used to relatively frightening men, that would probably have been the end of it. But if there was anything Clint, Bucky, Steve and the others had taught him it was how to pick your battles. And how to show a little humility. So he gave the older man a respectful nod and held out a hand. "Pietro Maximoff, sir. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Gracias," he said, shaking his hand with a grip that could put Thor to shame. He didn't flinch, because this wasn't about losing, but he didn't try to compete with it either. That seemed to satisfy Ora's father, because he nodded when he let go. Then someone sat him at a table a set a plate of tamales in front of him. Ora's sisters showed up, with a handful of kids in tow. They went to run around the back yard. None of them had brought their men, and none of them saw fit to talk in English, so he was just kind of stuck there, eating his tamales while the women talked over each other.

Eventually, Mr. Martinez got up from his chair and came to sit across from him. Pietro offered him some tamales and they sat and ate in surprisingly companionable silence. He supposed life with four daughters was like that.

He wracked his head for something the two of them might have in common that they could bond over with his terrible Spanish and Mr. Martinez's limited English. After checking a couple things on his phone, Pietro managed to say, "Romania and Argentina are playing each other in football," in said terrible Spanish. 

A few minutes later they were both in the living room parked in front of the television. The Martinez's didn't actually have the channel the game was on. But they did have cable and Pietro had Tony Stark's personal phone number and together those things had the Argentina game going strong.

He kept an eye on Ora as he watched the game, but she seemed to be doing all right. Now and then she'd wander by and put her hand on her shoulder. At first he thought she was reassuring him, like he needed help watching sporting events, but soon realized she was reassuring herself. Wanda did it, too, when she was nervous or uncomfortable. She said it grounded her. Though he hadn't failed notice lately she'd as often as not reach for Zev.

Ora came by during an ad break and he caught her hand, tugging her down for a kiss. "You all right?" he asked softly. "Or do I need to be bad cop and remember a pressing engagement?"

She sighed. "Just rehashing. I guess they need to get things off their chest. I'm okay. Get it over with and hopefully no one will fight at the funeral. Are you okay?" The TV must have caught her her eye, because she gestured at it and said something in Spanish. Her father made his 'I know, WTF?' face in response. He and Pietro had been exchanging that look and various hand gestures for half the game. The ref was clearly drunk.

Nothing bonded people together like complaining. If it had been a less exciting or cluster fucked game they wouldn't have had nearly as much fun. "Don't forget your dress shopping," he reminded Ora.

She squinted at the clock. "Good call." She kissed his forehead and hopped back up, apparently to go make her goodbyes. When she returned, she returned to the couch, and talked to her father. He began to sound like and argument, and he gestured at Pietro several times. It sounded like they were talking about marriage. He didn't know if that should alarm him. Finally she sighed and leaned over. "Could you confirm you are okay with leaving in the middle of the game?"

He laughed. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, aiming at her dad. "Romania's getting slaughtered anyway."

Five minutes later, they were back on the sidewalk, cab pulling up to the curb. Mrs. Martinez had shoved a tupperware container of food in his hand on the way out, like he might starve on the ride.

"So it seems like that went well," he offered, once they were away from curb.

"Surprisingly." She glanced over at him. "My father did inform me that no man would marry a woman who made him get up in the middle of a game."

Pietro laughed. "Well, it's a special occasion."

She grinned at him. "My sister asked me if you were one of my students."

"This is why I can't shave the beard. I look like a high schooler then."

"I like the beard." She reached out to rub his jaw for emphasis. "My sister who married the jerk divorced him. She's now with someone else, and was giving me detailed advice on the art of managing the cash flow from more than one baby daddy."

"I don't anticipate you needing that advice, to be honest."

"At my age? Probably not. Though she did advise me that I should ditch my birth control now since an 'accident' could take a while. She thinks you would pay impressive child support, being an Avenger and all."

Pointing out being an Avenger granted him access to really good lawyers was probably too real. "I don't know that an accident would take that long. Doc has theories about more subtle effects of the scepter."

"I've heard. She was asking me about your rebound time."

"Doc sciences first and thinks later." He grinned. "Were you complimentary?"

"Of course. The rest of them were more interested in that other thing you do."

Frowning, he tried to think of what on earth- He felt his cheeks heat. "Oh, dear."

She kissed his cheek. "I was complimentary."

"They're going to look at me funny, aren't they?"

"Would it help if I told you things about the other men?"

That way probably lay madness. He'd always been a sucker for good gossip, though. "Anything worth knowing?"

He could see her searching around for something that wouldn't be too much detail. "Well. You're not the only one with a built in vibrator." Her phone beeped, and she looked at it. "It's my mother. She wants to know if I have any idea why they suddenly have HBO."

Mr. Martinez had sworn she wouldn't notice. "Gift from their prodigal daughter's boyfriend." She looked at him. "It was the only way to get the package with the South American futball."

She chuckled, and leaned on his shoulder. They were on some highway or other, stuck in traffic. They were quiet a while, and then she said. "If I did have an accident. . ."

There was no way to tell, from her tone, what she was hoping he'd say. So he just asked, "What do you think you'd want to do?"

"I used to be sure. No way was I dragging something innocent into my train wreck of a life. Now. . . I don't know." She paused. "But I would not bilk you for cash the way my sister suggested. She's kind of a skank on a number of levels."

He smiled crookedly. "I like babies. Children. If there was an accident, I think I would like to be a father."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Well okay, then."

"They'd be very cute babies. With funny accents."

"We'd teach them lots of languages. And maybe they'll run like the wind." She sounded wistful when she said it.

Putting an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her against him again. He rather liked the image they painted. "Sounds like fun."

She pressed her face into his shoulder. "It does."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. When they got home - after the funeral and the family drama - they were going to talk about the future. He didn't want to add to her stress now, or make it anymore awkward than it already was. But this was real and it wasn't going anywhere.

*

Ora's phone rang as she was getting ready for the wake. Pietro was in the bathroom, trying to tame his hair into something respectable, so she put her eyeliner pencil down and scooped it up. 

"Hi, Ora, it's Sharon. Sorry, I don't want to bother you, do you have a minute?"

"I do," she replied. "Did you need Pietro?"

"No, no. Just you. Okay, first off, your clearance is through. No more gate list."

That was a surprise. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Apparently, I'm pretty scary when pregnant. We also scrubbed the net for your released information. Can't promise it's all gone, but it won't come up on any search engines. And that ex-student that complied it has recently found his credit history linked to a convicted embezzler with a very similar name." She paused. "That last one was Darcy's idea. I wish we'd had her in my SHIELD days, she's got flair."

"How—how did you do that? How do you remove something from the entire internet?"

"I wouldn't understand if they tried to explain, honestly," she replied. "But Vision removed _Ultron_ from the internet. One person's data was apparently not too much of a problem."

"I think I need to sit down." She really did. Her knees were wobbling.

"You should do that, then." Sharon sounded concerned. "I know it's kind of closing the barn door after the horses are gone, but we figured we owed it to you. And Maria's gonna start tracking down other civilians that were in the info dump. See if we can help them out, too."

Ora sank onto the end of the bed. She really needed to concentrate on not crying. "Good, that's good." She sniffled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Very welcome." Sharon paused. "I'm sorry about your brother. If there's anything we can do to help you or your family please call me."

"Thank you," she said. "The lot of you have done quite enough already, with the travel and the funeral. I can't express how much I appreciate it."

"Well, you're family." She said it as if it should be obvious.

Her voice caught. "Thank you," she said again.

"I'll see you when you get back. We'll get milkshakes."

She hung up and looked up to see Pietro in the doorway. "Everything okay?"

Everything overwhelmed her right then, a big messy tangle of emotions. She nodded, and then put her hands over her face, like she could hold the tears back by pressing her eyes hard enough.

The bed dipped as he sat next the her and his arms came around her, pulling her close. He just held and rocked her, rubbing her arm lightly. He was so solid and warm and safe. She had know idea how she'd have done this without him. "They fixed it. I don't know how. They got all my stuff off the internet."

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "We are superheroes. Saving people is our job."

"Meeting you might have been the best thing that ever happened to me."

After a moment of silence, he said, "I love you."

She lifted her head to look at him, blinking until her eyes cleared. Then she brought her hand up to cup his cheek and trace the line of his jaw. She thought her heart might actually literally explode. "I love you back."

He grinned, in that way only he could, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let it just be the two of them for a moment. He kissed her and rocked her a little before lifting his head. "Whatever happens, we can face it together."

She ruffled his hair. "I know."

"Aw, c'mon. I just got that settled."

"You slick it back too much you start to look like Russian Mobster."

"How do you know that wasn't the look I was going for. Explain my riches, yeah?"

She kissed him again. "Let me finish my makeup, and then we'll go. It's not going to be a fun evening."

"I know." He gave her ass a little pat as she stood to finish getting ready.

The wake was every bit as awful as she expected it to be. Between that and the renewal of her relationship with her family and what was going on with her and Pietro, she was about as emotionally exhausted as she'd ever been in her life. She felt numb by the time they crawled into bed back at the hotel. 

He tucked her against him, curling around her body. "Get some sleep," he told her, kissing her hair. "Tomorrow will be long, too.

He was warm and solid, and always made her feel better. "You were awesome today."

"Thank you. I'm glad I could help you."

"I'm serious, I'd give you a blowjob if my throat didn't hurt from all the talking and crying."

His chuckle rumbled from his chest to hers. "I will start keeping a tally, yeah? To make it up to me."

She smiled and snuggled closer. "Just to be clear, you absolutely cannot redeem them while on Space Mountain. They have night vision cameras in there."

"You ruin all my fun," he told her.

"Te amo," she told him as she closed her eyes.

"I love you back."

The next day was a full-day wake. She encountered what felt like every distant family member and acquaintance she'd ever had. Pietro did a fantastic job of charming and deflecting anyone who cornered her. It became obvious everyone was in a live-and-let-live mood, and the topic of her whole mess never came up.

Part of her wanted an apology. Part of her wanted to never discuss it again. Right now they seemed to be at option 2, and she was okay with that right now. Bury the hatchet.

Mid afternoon, two large display of flowers arrived. One was had a tasteful card signed "The Avengers", which everyone fussed over. The other just said, "You know who I am." Her family dubbed them "The Ghost Flowers." Her mother decided it was a sign from Jesus.

"Do not tell Tony about that," Pietro muttered to her when they had privacy. "He has a big enough complex as it is."

"They are very nice flowers."

"Pepper has excellent taste."

She took a deep breath, and hugged him for strength. "Back to the fray."

"You're doing great," he told her. "I'm proud of you."

She held on to his hand. "I couldn't do it alone."

That night, she begged off invitations from various family members, wanting instead to go back to the hotel. They ordered in room service, bought their tickets for Disneyland, and took a bath together. She told him she loved him in English, this time.

"You think it'll change anything?" he asked, playing with her wet hair. "When we get home?"

The warm water made her feel very relaxed. She could fall asleep like this. "Mmm?"

"With the I love yous," he clarified. "You think it'll be different between us?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I've felt like this for a while."

"Yeah. Me too. Wasn't sure if now that it was out you'd want to . . . take things to another level or whatever they say."

"The back door is exit only, honey."

He sputtered a little. "Not what I meant."

She straightened so she could see him and shrugged. "It's the only kind of sex we don't have," she pointed out. He made a face at her and she reached to rub his arm. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I've never done this before. Seems like something should change once we say it."

"I think it just means acknowledging some things that are already true. That we are serious and this thing's got some legs to it. Neither of us are going anywhere. Give ourselves permission to talk about the future without worrying the other is going to freak out." 

She could feel him relax against her. "That makes sense."

They got dried off and curled into bed, arms and legs tangled. In the darkness she asked, "Do you want to talk about the future?"

He was playing with her hair again, fanning it out behind her on the pillow. "I would. I like planning. I've never had a future to plan before."

She ached for him, right them. "I had one, and then I lost it. I didn't ever think I'd get a second chance."

"And now that you do? What do you think it includes?"

"I want a family," she said. They'd talked around this before. Besides, she wanted to be honest.  "You're a man, you're young, you have a lot of time. I really don't."

"I meant when I said I wanted to be a dad. And Wanda would love to be a biological auntie."

"It would just need to be soon. I mean, if we're talking about this, I might as well be straight. If we were going to do it, we'd need to do it."

After a moment of silence, he said, "Can we call me something other than baby daddy?"

She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest. It was so dark with the blackout drapes she could barely see him. "I'm kind of old fashioned, I would rather go with 'husband'."

To her relief, there was no pause this time. "Husband is good."

She kissed his chest. "Good."

He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Sleep well, Ora."


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, Pietro got to go to his first Catholic Mass. He'd absorbed working knowledge of Christianity from the general culture around him, but he had to admit, the particular details were pretty weird.

"So this is supposed to literally be blood and flesh," he whispered to her as the big gold goblet of wine and bowl of crackers came up the aisle in a spray of incense.

"Yes."

"And you. . . eat that?"

"Yes."

"Are you aware of how weird that sounds?"

"Yes," she hissed. "I always thought Cortez would have had an easier time with the Aztecs if he'd explained this whole cannibalism vibe."

Her mother gave her a look as the blessing started, and she put a finger over her lips. The priest was going on in Spanish, holding the goblet and bowl in the air. There was no way to subtly text someone during this. Besides it would be disrespectful. But he really felt some of his friends would appreciate his current predicament. Tony's mother had been Italian, Pietro was sure he'd been to an interminable Catholic mass or two.

He sat up straight in the pew, hands folded in his lap and practiced the meditation exercises Wanda and Bruce were always telling him he needed. People in their pew started standing, and Ora touched his arm. "Stay here." 

He watched them line up, including Ora and her mother having some sort of gesture and facial-expression based argument that involved several significant looks in his direction. This seemed to ripple through the family and by the time Ora returned to the pew—he had to get up so the rest of them could file in—it felt like most of the church was looking at him.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked quietly.

"Sorry, don't worry about them. My mother just realized you're not Catholic." She squeezed his hand. "They don't get to not speak to me for three years and then have an opinion on this."

"Do you want to tell them I'm Russian Orthodox? I could probably fake that, more or less."

"It's not their business. Really."

He lifted his hand and kissed her knuckles. "All right. Shiska."

There was still some more service after communion, giving him time to contemplate the logistics of their discussion last night. They were both not particularly religious people, from families who were more so. Would they raise the kids with religion? Which one? Would she want them baptized? Her mother probably would. The wedding would be an impossible side-show it was probably best to avoid and get a justice of the peace.

He glanced over at her. Did last night's conversation make them engaged?

He should probably clarify that and then get a ring. Or should he get a ring first, then talk? So that he'd be prepared. No, it seemed like some sort of clarification would be good. Besides, when was he going to have time to go ring shopping out here? He didn't want to wait until they got home to have the conversation.

Wanda was going to be so _smug_ about this.

Everyone got up, then, and the pallbearers carried the coffin down the aisle. There was more incense, and more crying. Then there was the trip to the ceremony and the burial itself, which involved more praying in Spanish, and yet more crying. He held on to Ora's hand, rubbing her back if he thought she needed it. The family helped shovel dirt in the grave, and then they were back in the limos. One of her sisters was throwing an after party at her house.

"I should have had my sister implant Spanish in my brain," he muttered. On the bright side, maybe there's be another den full of men and futball.

"I love you," she said, both an endearment and an apology in her voice.

"When we visit next can we talk only in Sokovian?"

It ended up not as bad has he'd feared. Her various brothers-in-law and cousins and uncles gravitated around a large TV that was, in fact, showing a proper football game. Enough of them spoke English that he could make conversation, and there seemed to be lots of questions about his work. He hoped Ora was doing all right, but the crowd was very separated by gender, so he couldn't exactly go hover.

During the commercial break he took pity on the very bored children milling about and ran them around the block. It was good to see that trick entertained kids all the way into grade school and not just the toddlers he was used to. When everyone had had two trips he went to the kitchen to refuel. Hopefully Ora's mother would be around to approve of his appetite. Maybe it would make up for the not-Catholic thing.

She was in there all right, along with another woman of a similar age. One of the aunts, he thought. They were taking a giant pan of enchiladas out of the oven. When they noticed him, their talking stopped.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the pan. "Uh, may have some?"

Her mother turned at looked at him. "Ora told me you paid for the funeral."

"Yes, _señora_ , I did."

She came forward and hugged him, as hard of not harder than when they met the other day. She stepped back and gave a nod. "You take good care of her?" 

"I'll take very good care of her."

She patted his cheek. "I can work with Eastern Orthodox," she said, and then went to get him a plate of enchiladas.

Right. He had some research to do when he got home.

The evening ended with more hugging and crying, and the two of them collapsing into bed back at the hotel, too tired even for sex. Sleeping next to her was still nice. And they were going to Disneyland tomorrow.

*

Disneyland was even more fun than expected. Pietro got recognized frequently, mostly by hyperactive little boys and young teen girls. The boys came up to them, talking fast and asking questions about how fast he could go. Pietro answered what he could and took pictures for everyone brave enough to approach him.

 The teen girls (and at least two guys that Ora spotted) hung out at the fringes, sneaking candid shots, blushing and whispering to each other.

"Everyone back home is going to love hearing about this," she teased as they had a late lunch in a New Orleans-themed restaurant.

He was busy sucking a craw fish out of its shell but he gave her a Look. When he'd finished chewing he said, "Pietro Maximoff, the newest Disney attraction."

She poked him with her foot. "So is it living up to your childhood daydreams?"

"Even better. I liked the Haunted Mansion. And I got Wanda mouse ears. It was a good day."

"It was. I needed it. So. . . thank you."

"You're welcome." He ate a few bites of jambalaya, then looked at her seriously. "Are we engaged?"

She choked on her gumbo. "What?"

"We kind of had a conversation about calling me husband and I didn't really know. . ."

Ora put her spoon down and looked at him, not sure what to say. "I just. . . I'd want to get married before we had children. And I know we talked about doing that. At some point. But I didn't mean—I mean, not that I don't—" She took a breath, wishing she had some idea which answer he was hoping for. Or, hell, what she wanted. "You are not obligated to marry me just because we alluded to maybe doing so in the future."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "But if such an inclination occurred to me. . . that would be all right?"

"Are you asking if I'd say yes if you asked?"

"I. . . yes."

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a teacher who gives cheat sheets."

"Not even for your best pupil?"

Ora pointed her spoon at him. "So, let's see. I am a divorced woman in her mid-thirties with a ticking biological clock. You are young, rich, famous, have all your hair and a body like an underwear model. And you just put up with three days of my obnoxious family including attending a long Mass in a language you don't speak. Also, I'm kinda in love with you. So what's the math on that?"

After blinking at her a moment he gave that damned cocky smile. "Underwear model, huh?"

She shook her head, and went back to her gumbo. "You own mirrors. I've seen you flexing in front of them."

He shrugged and scooped up another crawfish. "Well, I'll work on my calculations and get back to you."

"You do that." She swallowed a small pang of disappointment. Which was pretty ridiculous. They'd just managed to admit their feelings to each other. They needed time to sort things out. Just a few months ago she'd have sworn on her grandmother's grave she never wanted to get married again.

When they left the restaurant he put his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. "What would you like to do now?"

"Pirates of the Caribbean is right over there." She pointed.

"I did enjoy the films." He smiled and steered her towards it.

They stayed until they were thrown out of the park, and on the way back to the hotel, he called to arrange to have the jet pick them up in the morning. She had classes to teach and he had missions to go on. Real life called.

It was evening when they landed and took one of the golf carts to Pietro's house. Wanda and Zev were in the front parlor, him working on a lap top, her reading. She looked up at the door and smiled, jumping to her feet when she saw them. "How did it go?" she asked, coming over to hug Ora, then Pietro.

"Apparently I am now a member of my family again," she said. She hadn't decided entirely if she could really put it behind her, or if she was still upset how they'd shut her out.

"And I'm going to need to learn to fake being Eastern Orthodox," Pietro added.

Ora turned. "I told you you didn't have to do that."

"Your mother seems to have made an assumption. I didn't feel in a position to correct her."

Wanda was laughing. "We'll hide the menorah and mezuzah if they come to visit."

"We're not quite that far yet." She reached out to rub his arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. We can deal with it another time."

She turned back to Wanda. "How was your meet-the-family weekend?"

Wanda beamed. "Wonderful. His father cooked with me and his sisters think I'm too pretty for him."

From behind her, Zev looked up and signed, "We remained Jews through the whole weekend." Wanda snorted, and Ora winced, and then repeated it out loud for Pietro.

"Can you put languages in my head?" Pietro asked.

"Possibly." Wanda tilted her head. "I would need to take it out of someone else's first. Why?"

He pointed at Ora. "They all speak Spanish."

"You can take it out of mine," Ora said. It felt like a weird thing to say. "And any other language you want while you're in there, I guess. I speak a lot of them."

"I've never put anything in someone else's head. Let me try it with some smaller things first. Then go into entire languages."

"I will say I can see why that is behind some serious security clearance," Ora said. "Being able to insert thoughts or knowledge into someone's brain."

"We're pretty sure someone - several someones - would put me in a box if they found out." Wanda said it lightly, but went over to Zev and touched him, obviously seeking comfort.

"They could try," Pietro said darkly. "We're bigger than them."

"I have clearance now," Ora offered. "Though I'm not sure what's on a a government background check can really tell you how trustworthy someone is." Pietro had told her Wanda was a telepath—because it was a lot of how she and Zev talked and hard to avoid if Ora was going to be in the house. But he hadn’t gone into detail. Now they were casually discussing language transplants.

So perhaps something _had_ changed when they admitted their feelings.

"Sharon mentioned she was kicking some ass for you," Wanda said. "I'm glad. We were mostly treating you like you were, anyway."

"They got my information cleaned off the internet, too." She smiled. "Your people aren't half bad."

"We have many skills," she agreed. She did a little gesture and their luggage started marching itself upstairs. "I was about to start cooking dinner? Will you join us?"

She reached out and took Pietro's hand. "Sounds nice."

He grinned down at her, then back at his sister. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Tony took our mixer to 'upgrade' it, but that was like a week and a half ago, so I may just buy a new one. In the mean time, I need you to make whipped cream."

"I can do that." He dropped a kiss on the top of Ora's head. "Time me."

"Showoff," she called after him as he went into the kitchen. 

Dinner was lovely, and far more fun than many of their recent meals. Wanda cooked simple but delicious food and Pietro's hand-whipped cream went on top of some perfectly creamy chocolate mousse. Zev told them about his progress on his thesis and Wanda practiced dumping things in Pietro's head by teaching him some signs. It seemed to work out, so they decided to wait and see if the information stuck, then think about doing Spanish. 

By the time the dishes were rinsed and in the washer Ora felt remarkably relaxed. Like coming home.

"I think it is different," she told him that night as they were getting into bed. She should probably go back to her apartment at some point, but right now she really didn't have any inclination to. "But it's good."

He held out an arm so she could tuck herself against him. "It's very good," he said.

She sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you," she told him.

" _Te amo_ ," he replied.

*

Ora went back to work the next day and Pietro found himself at loose ends, contemplating the Ring Problem. He was pretty confident their conversation at Disneyland had been a giant green light to go ahead with a proposal. Hell, she'd seemed a little disappointed one didn't come immediately. He'd considered it - there hadn't been any garbage cans nearby, which he was reliably informed was the bare minimum ambiance required - but he'd wanted to do it properly. He didn't intend to ever ask someone to marry him again, this one needed to be memorable.

After cleaning up the breakfast dishes and starting some laundry with the stuff from their suitcases, he tugged on some of his running gear, intending to go out in the woods for some serious contemplation. When he got outside, however, he noticed the glint of glass in Clint's turret and knew he was up there sniping. So he pulled out his phone and texted him. _Can I come talk to you about something?_

_Sure. Bucky's over, btw._

Even better. Maybe. It had probably been his arm he's seen, not a scope. They were too careful for that. _Tell him his arm gave away your position. I'll be up in a moment._

It was just a moment. A sprint to the door, and then a sprint upstairs. Clint was still putting his phone back in his pocket. "Hi."

"Hello." He sank down next to Clint. 

Bucky was fidgeting with his sleeve in annoyance. "Stark has to make everything chrome, doesn't he?"

"Subtlety isn't his thing." Clint looked over at Pietro. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to ask Ora to marry me." Neither of them appreciated beating around the bush. "I need a ring."

"Ah," Clint said. "I dodged that issue."

"Me too," Bucky said. "In fact, Amanda likes to remind me it was less of a question and more of an order."

"I danced around the question," Clint said. "Nat had to demand I specifically ask."

In retrospect, they probably weren't the best people to come to. "No advice, then?"

They looked at each other. "Did anyone do the whole ring-and-deliberate-proposal thing?" Clint asked.

"Steve," Bucky replied. "That's about it. Unless Bruce did, but I don't think so."

"Cal did," Pietro offered. "Sort of. And no, Bruce is still dragging his feet, at least according to the last girl talk I heard between Violet and Wanda."

"We're kind of a non-traditional bunch, aren't we?" Clint shrugged. "You could just ask her and then let her pick it out."

"Eh. . . she seems like she'd want something more romantic. I'd like to do it right by her."

"Yeah. . . Steve," Clint replied.

"Steve," Bucky echoed. "He bought out a rooftop restaurant and covered it with flowers."

That was more in line with what he'd thought. "Right. I'll ask him, then." He paused. "Is he going to make this a thing? Plan it like a mission?"

"That's kind of what he does."

Pietro sighed. Well, he had been looking for help. "I'll see what he has to say, then."

"I don't want to be that guy," Clint said. "But, are you sure you want to do this? You're. . .young."

"I'm sure. I love her. I don't see that changing. We've talked about the future and kids and it doesn't frighten me. I don't see why I have to wait for some arbitrary age to get engaged. Especially when she's a bit older and worried about her clock ticking."

"Ah, so you'll be joining the baby brigade?"

"Babies are great," Bucky said. "Don't listen to him."

"I like kids." He hoped that didn't sound too defensive. "And she wants them."

"They change your life for the better. And are exhausting. But mostly the good stuff."

"It takes a lot to exhaust me," Pietro said with a grin.

He went for his run after that, and contemplated calling Steve. By the time he got back, Ora informed him she had been invited to Sharon's baby shower that weekend, an cajoled him into going gift shopping with her. She bought some sort of baby equipment off the registry. He located an impossibly tiny pair of running shoes, and when he dropped them on the conveyor belt beside her box, she looked down at them and said, "I can literally feel my ovaries right now." 

"Are they ticking?" he teased. "Doing a jig? Starting hostage negotiations?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "Are your powers inheritable?"

"We're not sure. Doc thinks the scepter effected our DNA, so it's likely my children will be. . . enhanced. They won't necessarily be fast, though."

She handed her credit card to the cashier. "Could they be like Wanda? Or something new?"

"No way to know." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "They didn't know how it would manifest in us. It seems to be connected to our personalities, to be honest. Could be the same with babies."

"Throw my genes in there and we'll have speed talking."

"That might be useful. Terrifying, but useful."

"He or she would have a long, fruitful career as an auctioneer, or someone who records drug advertisements for the radio."

"Both worthwhile careers." He scooped up her bags as they headed for the door.

"What are you doing with yourself while I'm at the babyfest?" she asked when they got in the car.

"Not sure." At least, not that he was going to tell her. "I'm sure some of the men will be drinking beer and belching or something."

"You are a magnificent belcher," she replied, making him laugh. 

He slung his other arm around her shoulders. "If I get a good one, I'll have them record it for you."

"What's sad is I believe you."

"There is a certain fratboy vibe when the right collection of us get together." Though he was fairly certain not one of them had ever been in a frat.


	13. Chapter 13

As it turned out, the frat party vibe was somewhat defused by the fact that Neil had decided he didn't want to go to the baby shower, and Bruce had gamely brought him to Boys Day. 

"Somewhat", because a couple of them were now over by the bushes, having decided that the boy was plenty old enough to learn to pee outside. That definitely struck Pietro as something that people did at fraternities. 

"Is Violet going to kill you for this when she finds out?" Bucky asked Bruce when Neil was done and happily playing again.

"Frankly, she's grateful for every diaper she doesn't have to change," he said mildly, watching his son climb the side of the play structure. "I don't think she'll let me completely yard train him, though."

"It'll start snowing eventually," Steve said. "Unpleasant."

"Spoken like someone who has pissed outside in the snow," Cal commented.

"Oh. We have," Bucky replied.

"Stark claims to have relieved himself from atop his balcony at Stark Tower," Thor told them. "I let him have some mead, so I believe it to be true."

Pietro glanced around. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Business," Clint said. "Allegedly."

"Allegedly?"

"Pepper is under the weather," Bruce said diplomatically. "We're pretending we don't know why."

"I do not understand Midgardian superstitions sometimes," Thor said.

"There's been a lot of disappointments," Bruce said. "This transfer looks promising, but Pepper doesn't want to get her hopes up. I think it's understandable. You brace yourself for disappointment however you can."

"Disappointment is better borne with the support of loved ones, I think. In any case, I do wish them luck." 

"Assuming positive outcomes," Clint said, "That would make the next batter in the Avengers Babymill lineup. . . " He twirled his finger and then pointed at Bucky. "Unless Bennet over there is getting in the game."

"Yeah, no," Cal said.

"Amanda has informed me it's probably now or never to get Edie a sibling. And that if I wasn't a super soldier it'd be more likely never."

"I have faith in you," Clint told him.

Since it didn't seem likely he'd get a better opening, Pietro cleared his throat. "So, uh. I might need some advice. On engagement rings."

There was silence, as everyone turned to look at him. Thor clapped him on the back so hard he nearly launched him out of his deck chair. "Congratulations, my friend."

"Thanks," he wheezed. "I know most of you didn't do any sort of fuss. But I wanted to do it right and I don't know where to start."

"I got too much advice," Cal said. "It only made it more confusing."

"The ring doesn't matter," Thor said. "And it does not need to be complicated."

"Says the man who proposed in front of a trash can," Steve replied.

Thor laughed and held up a hand. "No, hear me out. I asked Jane about it, after you and your elaborate production on the roof." He gestured at Steve. "If she was disappointed, if she would like a proper Midgardian Betrothal Event. And she replied it was not about sparkly jewelry or elaborate circumstances. What matters is the words. The man she loves telling her how much he loves her and how he would like to spend all his days with her. Which was something I was able to address right then."

Pietro pondered that for a moment. "I agree she probably wouldn't want me to make a huge deal of it. But I do think I need a ring. She likes things a little romantic and old fashioned. It would matter to her."

"I had Tiffany come to the Tower," Steve said. "I didn't want Sharon to find out from the tabloids."

Shit, he hadn't thought of that. "I think having Tiffany come all the way out here would make more news than me shopping."

"Why don't we all go?" Bucky suggested. "If we get noticed, it won't call anyone out. Anybody with Christmas or other occasion gifts to buy, same thing."

"You're suggesting we go shopping," Clint said, his voice as dry as a desert.

"You can stay home with Neil," Bruce offered.

He lifted a shoulder. "Nat likes jewelry. I'm just amused at the group of us having a shopping expedition."

"The ladies at the store won't know what to do with themselves," Steve said.

Pietro had the feeling this was now out of his hands. Still, he asked, "Can it be somewhere other than Tiffany?"

"There's a local place," Bucky said. "I got Amanda an anniversary gift there. They were nice."

"We should go while Neil is in a good mood," Bruce said.

Which was how two snipers, Captain America, a computer expert, a Norse God, a speedster, the Hulk and a preschooler ended up in a small jewelry store in Ithaca on a Saturday afternoon. They filled the small building and the three salesladies - two younger than Pietro and one that looked old enough to be his grandma - seemed rather nonplussed at the sudden crowd.

They all had opinions. All of them. 

"It could be worse," Cal told him.

"How?"

"Stark could be here." He paused. "Though he did give me a bonus that paid for Darcy's ring."

"Obviously I need to save his life on our next mission," Pietro muttered. He stared down at the three racks of diamond rings spread out before them. Maybe some grumpy assassins should have properly proposed to their women to get their engagement ring opinions over with.

"You really have to keep in mind her style and lifestyle," Steve said.

Right, they were not starting round four of this. He reached over, scooped Neil out of Bruce's arms and pointed at the rings. "You have no dog in this fight, little man. Tell Uncle Pietro, which is your favorite?"

Neil's tongue came out and for an awful moment Pietro thought he was going to scatter all the racks to the wind. They he pointed a chubby finger at one on the far left and said. "Star!"

Sure enough, there was a platinum ring with a single diamond in the middle, the band around it cut like a star. It was simple, the diamond only just over a carat, but the light caught the decorated band and made it glitter. "Right. That one."

"Or, you could let Bruce's kid pick it," Steve said diplomatically.

"He has excellent taste," Pietro replied, handing Neil back to his father. "I think if I brought anything in here home to her she'd be thrilled. Figured he'd pick one that was eye catching and aesthetically pleasing. He likes symmetry and order, you haven't noticed?"

Bruce smiled, "Well, I've noticed." The saleslady was filling out the purchase slip and getting him a box. "I'd have warned you off it had been Ada."

"Vision enjoys her decorations," Thor said.

Steve turned. "Ah yes, the bedazzled cape and giant pink glitter tiara."

"Large gilded helmets are a sign of status on Asgard," Thor replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

They were a crazy band of brothers, but Pietro did love them.

The ring was boxed and bagged and he handed over his credit card with only the smallest of winces. A few of the others had decided they might as well get some Christmas shopping done and he hung out as they did so. 

"It's going to burn a hole in your pocket," Steve told him. "Trust me."

That he believed. "I'll find an opportunity soon."

Steve nodded. "Now I need to go buy a—" he turned back towards the other men. "Push prize? Is that what you called it?"

Bucky and Bruce shrugged in unison. "Violet claims it's a legitimate thing."

Pietro would have thought the baby would be an adequate prize for pushing, but what did he know? Steve had gone to pick something out, and so he opened the box again to look down at what was now, officially, the most expensive thing he'd ever bought in his life. It might even be more expensive than anything he'd ever stolen, either. Aside from that time he'd 'acquired' a case of AIDs medication for a homeless clinic. That had probably been a hundred grand worth of antiretrovirals.

She was going to love it, he reminded himself. It would be fine. He just needed to find a good way to ask. Before the nerves got to him and he just threw it at her across the dinner table with a panicked look on his face.

Ora would forgive him for that, of course. She'd smile and laugh and never make him feel bad. Which was up there on the list of reasons why he was asking in the first place. But it would probably end up making the gossip rounds, with people making jokes about it like Thor's 'waste receptacle'.

When they had succeeded in doubling the average weekly take of the little store, they filed back into their cars to head back to the compound. "Did everyone get something?"

"Were we required to?" Thor asked. "Jane doesn't like jewelry."

"I was just curious," Pietro said. "Wanted to make sure I hadn't wasted anyone's time."

"Many purchases were made. Just not by me."

"It's going to be a very glittery Christmas," Bucky confirmed. "The ladies will be very grateful to you."

The baby shower was dispersing by the time they got back to the compound. Wanda and Ora were in their kitchen debating dinner. Zev had begged off the invitation to hang out with the group because Chuck was out of town and he found group social interactions without him tiring, but was apparently coming by later. He could hear Ora telling Wanda about Pietro eating the entire tray of enchiladas at her sister's house.

He strolled into the room. "In my defense, I had run the kids around the neighborhood. I earned it." 

She leaned her head back to kiss him. "Hola. Where did you boys get off too?"

"Ran into town, Neil wanted a change of scenery." He noticed Wanda's eyes widen comically and he glared a warning at her. "How was the shower?"

"Adorable. Amanda knit a little stuffed Captain America shield. Biological clocks seemed to be clanging around the room. Mark my words, somebody's getting knocked up tonight."

"Over-under with the boys was Barnes and Doc, with the Bennets as the dark horse." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wanda practically vibrating. He really should have closed off his thoughts better. She was going to tip Ora off.

"Amanda said Pepper is really sick. I have no idea if watching that is tipping the odds or not. Though she did reassure us that that is not at all normal, so maybe it won't bother her. God knows Sharon doesn't seem to have an ill effects."

"Pepper has a hard time because of the hormones she takes," Wanda said, voice a little tight. "In fact, I think I may go check on her before Zev comes. Make sure Tony isn't driving her mad. I'll see you later." She stood and hustled out the door, not making eye contact with either of them. One would think as a telepath she'd be a little more subtle.

Ora watched her go. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. I think her clock is ticking a little, too." He sank into the seat next to Ora. "So you had fun with the ladies?"

"When I was your age I didn't even know I had a clock." She dragged over the sugar bowl to put some in her iced tea. "Sorry, I didn't mean to 'when I was your age' you. And yes, I had fun. Sharon's mother and sisters-in-law are really nice. I won a gift card for knowing the most words for Mother. Violet won one about identifying baby items in a bag by feel, and Amanda won one that inventoried purse contents. She carries a lot of doctor stuff."

"Pretty sure Doc can reattach a limb with what she carries in her purse. Which, given who she hangs around with, is probably a good thing." He stole a swig of her tea, moving fast enough the only evidence was the level of the liquid now being down an inch. "Good day, then?"

"It was fun, they're fun." She reached out to touch his arm. "Wanda wanted Indian, she suggested you could run into town, but I may want to drive, I have been back to my apartment in a week. I should make sure my stuff is still there. Or we could go after and sleep there, give her and Zev a little privacy."

He grinned. Yes, privacy. Good. "I think they'd appreciate that. And it would be nice for us, too, yeah? Been a busy week."

She leaned over to kiss him. "Sounds like a plan."

*

When Ora woke up the next morning, she was alone in her bed. She got up to see where Pietro had gotten off to, and found him in the kitchen cooking. He was zipping around so fast she couldn't entirely see him. "How do you have this much energy after last night?"

He stopped in front of her to give her a kiss. "Coffee."

"I'm considering cutting you off. What are you making?"

"Quiche and fruit parfait. It's almost ready."

She hopped up on the counter to watch him. "Did I have eggs?" She looked at the counter. "I definitely didn't have strawberries."

"I went shopping. The local grocery opens at six." He handed her a strawberry coated in brown sugar. "I cleaned out your fridge. It was scary."

"Aww, _quierdo_ , you didn't have to do that. We could have gone out for brunch."

He shrugged. "I felt like cooking." The oven beeped and he went to check on it.

"You are entirely too good to me."

Setting the steaming quiche on the counter, he grinned at her, just on the edge of smug. "Maybe a little."

She looked at the detritus on the counter. It looked like he had made and rolled pie dough in her tiny kitchen. He'd made and rolled lard pie dough, specifically. "You don't do anything halfway, do you?"

The grin might have tipped into smug then. "I am very thorough. As I think I proved last night?"

She stretched her foot out and poked him in the ribs. "Yeah, yeah. Careful with that ego."

He served her a piece of quiche and a bowl of the fruit parfait, then sat down with his own. His leg jiggled a little as he ate, just on the border of annoying.

"Pietro. How many cups of coffee did you have?"

The leg stopped. "Just two. And you are not my mother," he added, before taking a huge bite  
of his quiche.

"If I were, last night would have been very, very wrong." She watched him choke on his quiche.

He had to guzzle down most of his juice to wash down the food and stop coughing. "I love you," he said when he'd calmed.

She grinned. "Because I sass you?"

"That. And you're smart and kind and strong." His face was very serious. "You faced your fears for me, I know how hard it was for you to come to the compound."

Not knowing what to make of the sudden change in mood, she slid her hand across the table to touch his. "You said you needed me."

He nodded. "I've never been so happy than I was when I saw you on the Wife Line." He cleared his throat. "I feel like, even though we haven't been together for very long, we have seen the best and worst of each other. I like everything I've seen. I don't see my feelings for you changing. So-" He moved too fast for her to see and then there was a little black velvet box sitting in front of her. "Would you marry me?"

"Oh, my God," she said, reaching out but almost afraid to touch it. They'd talked about it. They'd danced around it. She wasn't entirely sure how serious he'd been when they were in Disneyland, which was why she tried to be light about it. But now there was literally an engagement ring sitting in front of her. She opened the box and looked at the pretty, simple ring until her vision blurred. She seemed to be crying.

"Ora?" he said hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

She looked up and wiped her eyes, realizing she hadn't answered. His leg was fidgeting so fast it was starting to blur. "Yes. I mean, yes to that, but also the other yes." 

He laughed, sounding relieved, and reached out to pull her into a hug. "Good. Good."

With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. "And not just because of that underwear model thing."

"But it helps?"

She laughed. "That you're nice to look at? Yes. You are just way, way, too hot for the likes of me. You'll probably age really well, too."

"I probably will," he agreed. "And you are plenty hot enough."

"I want to see what you look like with gray hair. I want to see what our children look like."

He kissed her temple. "So do I."

"My hair will never be gray, so long as there is dye to be had."

"That's just fine, too."

*

The Stark New Year's Party was a legendary bacchanalia, one that Pietro had enjoyed greatly last year in New York. The vibe had been subdued, and he and his sister were still figuring themselves out. But he'd had fun. And by a stroke of luck, the random admin he'd had a one-night-stand with last year had not moved to Ithaca. That might have been awkward. Try as he might, he could not remember her name. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

This year's party had a different tone, anyway. 

Tony and Pepper's living room still featured a huge wall of glass, but now it overlooked their picturesque little lake instead of the Manhattan skyline. Inside it was much more like a family dinner party, kids running around in pajamas before being bunked down upstairs—except for Neil, who decided he didn't want to go to bed, only to pass out on Thor half an hour later. Thor had been carrying the sleeping boy around draped on his shoulder for a good two hours now, as if he weighed nothing.

Ora was on the other side of the room, having what looked like an animated conversation with Sharon Rogers, whom she'd gotten to be surprisingly good friends with. She'd melded with his people amazingly well for someone who'd been afraid to set foot through the gates just a few months ago.

"I can feel Sharon's nerves from here," Wanda said, materializing at his side. "The baby is down the street, with her own mother, and yet I still can't stand too close to her." 

"I'm told new mothers are rather fretful," he said. "And Joey had a bit of a hard time." The Rogers's first child, Joseph, had been premature and spent a month in the NICU. He was home and healthy now, but Pietro sympathized with Sharon's worry.

"Ora seems happy," Wanda said. "And I'd know if she wasn't, she's a really loud thinker."

"She's a loud lots of things," he murmured. Wanda made a face and he groaned. "Not like that."

"You're only a floor below us," she replied. Neither he nor Wanda had wanted to move out, so Ora and Zev had moved in and they shared the big house. The second floor was his and Ora's, and they'd renovated the third floor and attic for Wanda and Zev. It was something that could have been a disaster, but actually turned out really nice.

"I hope the thoughts don't annoy you," he said diplomatically.

"I try not to be in your business," she said enigmatically. "I'm going to go find Zev."

"He, Clint and Stark were doing taste tests by the bar," he offered as she walked away. He watched her a moment, then went to join Ora. Midnight was coming and he didn't want to miss his kiss.

She held an arm out for him and leaned up to kiss his jaw when he reached her. Sharon gave them a little wave and wandered away peering at her phone. Probably texting her mother for updates. "Did you know there's a apparently a chart that ranks all the men by hotness?" Ora asked him.

He grinned. "The Chart 'O Hotness. Doc's nurses created it many New Year's parties ago. I'm told I have an impressive showing."

"Getting married changes the math, so you'll be losing a lot of points next year. Also, Sharon told me there's now a secondary probability game they've titled Breeder Bowl 2019. There's gambling."

"I love my coworkers."

"The long odds are the funniest. 80-1 on Maria Hill. 50-1 on them finding another Stark baby in there." Pepper's last embryo had not only taken, it had turned out to be identical twins. Tony kept telling them his son had already bested him, since he'd managed to clone himself.

"I assume we're on there in the middle somewhere?"

"I have no idea. The very earnest and very drunk blond thing that explained the math to me asked me how old I was for her calculations and I told her to piss off. Though I do know that Doc's at the top, and Sharon is offended she's even on it."

"That was probably Tiff," he offered. "And I'd put my money on Doc, too. Even Barnes is emitting a ticking noise recently."

Ora sipped her drink. "Think I could convince her I'm 40? Throw the math, possibly earn us some serious cash."

He laughed. "Well, she doesn't have your medical records to double check. But no one would ever believe you're 40."

"I don't know, she was pretty drunk."

"I thought you wanted to marry first?"

"I keep telling myself that. Keep telling my mother, too." Christmas with the Martinezes had been very loud and overwhelming. The wedding would probably be a circus.

"Cal says very nice things about eloping," he suggested, not for the first time. He was really dreading an event that mixed the Martinezes and the Avengers. Plus whatever discussion they were going to need to have about being married by a priest or not.

"I already had a wedding," she said. "I don't know that I need another one."

That almost sounded like he was winning. "I'd like some of my friends there. But something small and low pressure appeals."

"I just don't want it to seem like we're rushing or not taking it seriously. I already hear enough 'wow, that's fast' commentary."

He tipped his head back, thinking a moment. "There is a lot of grey area between courthouse steps and cathedral train at St. Patricks."

"My family isn't really sub-dividable. They move as one loud co-dependant lump."

Frowning, he scanned the room. "I feel like this is a logistics problem worthy of bigger brains than mine."

"I actually have kind of a crazy idea."

He looked back at her. "That's my favorite kind."

"What if we did it backwards? Get pregnant, and then say oops, sorry, we don't have time to plan a thing. They'd buy that."

"That's positively devious." He paused. "I love it."

"It's a big decision, obviously, and if you're not ready, I totally understand."

He shrugged. "I'm told I have a few months to wrap my head around the reality of it. But we've been talking about having babies for a while now and I'm not the type to wait once I've made a decision. If you're ready, I'm good."

"I might be a level or two _past_ ready if I'm being honest."

"Sounds like we're in agreement, then." He leaned in and kissed her. "Babymaking it is."

She giggled. "Holy shit."

He grinned and kissed her again. "Indeed." In time with the TV, the room began chanting the midnight countdown. Ora rested her head on his chest and he could hear her counting in Spanish. He chimed in in Sokovian and at one he bent and kissed her, dipping her as the rest of the party cheered.

"What do you say we sneak out?" she whispered when he lifted his head.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea." He waggled his brows. "Shall we run for it?"

She put her arms around his neck so he could lift her up before he took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end of Pietro and Ora. Thank you all for reading, as always.
> 
> We have a couple of other Tales stories planned, but nothing even close to done. There are some new things on the horizon so keep an eye out here and on my Tumblr for updates.


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